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ETTORE ElERAMOSCA, 

OR THE 

CHALLENGE OF HART, ETTA, 

AN 


HISTORICAL ROMANCE 1^ 

OF THE TIMES OF THE MEDICI. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN BY 


C. EDWARDS LESTER, 

U. S. CONSUL AT GENOA AUTHOR OF THE GLORY AND SHAME OF 

ENGLAND MEMBER OF THE ATENEO ITALIANO AT 

FLORENCE ETC. ETC. 


NEW YORK; 

PAINE & BURGESS, 02 JOHN STREET 
1 845 . 




Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 
PAINE & BURGESS, 

in theClerk’s office of the District Court for the Southern District of 

New York. 



C. A. ALVORD, PRINTER, 

CORNER OF JOHN AND DUTCH STREETS, 
NEW YORK. 


DEDICATION 


TO 

GENERAL GEORGE P. MORRIS. 


Dear General : 

While everybody else in ‘‘ this land of noise, and 
steam, and trouble,” has been toiling out life. Your 
business has been to live in society-^ Your 
has been with the Muses. You have thrown the soft 
light of Romance, and Song, over our working*day life 
in America. How many times, years ago, did the 
Mirror” come like a winged messenger of peace, and 
love, to our quiet homes in the still country ! How 
many of those cheerful homes were more cheerful when 
it came ! We used to go to the Village Post Office, 
Saturday evening, to get the “ Mirror,” and then come 
home and tease our sisters — for we would read it first; 
and they would come and look over our shoulders, and 
beg us to let them take it just a minute to see Mr. 
Morris’ last Song, and we would not give it up till we 
had read it, and then they would go off and thump away 
on the Piano-forte, just to tease us. Dear Sisters ! — 
some of them are care-worn Mothers, and some are 
Angels now. 


IV 


DEDICATION. 


It seems long ago — Those bright homes around 
which You have poured so much Romance, and such 
sweet Song — we’ve wandered away from them, and we 

thought we should be happy in the Great World ! 

And now when we are tired, and crazed, we wish we 
could go back again — We did go back, and we looked 
for the flowers, and they were dead — the old Songs, 
and the bright-eyed Sisters, and the Loved Ones, and 
“ they were gone, all gone and we bowed over the 
ruins of the Altars of our early Love, and wept. 

When I think of those deserted homes over the deep 
Sea, whose sad ruins still seem so beautiful, I think of 
You, and when the “ New Mirror” comes I read Your 
Songs as I used to, and try to feel as You made me 
feel fifteen years ago. I wish I could pour some 
sun-light around a heart that has poured so much around 
mine. I’ll try ! You love a good Romance I know ; I offer 
You the best in the Italian tongue. If You happen to 
while away an idle hour over these beautiful creations as 
gaily as I have many a one in trying to transfuse the 
bright Dreams of Italian Romance into the rude Speech 
of the North, I shall be well paid for my toil. 

I commit this little messenger from the Land of 
Dante to the New World to Your keeping, and there is 
no one I would love to trust it with so well. 

Faithfully yours, 

C. EDWARDS LESTER. 

Genoa Palazzo Lomellini, ) 

New Yearns Evening, 1845. f 


.•;fv ^ 


THE 

CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


CHAPTER 1. 

At the close of a beautiful day in April, 1503, the bell of St. 
Domenico, in Barletta, was sounding the last tocsins of the 
Ave-Maria. In the piazza on the shore of the sea which forms 
the rendezvous of the quiet inhabitants, particularly in the 
small towns of our southern climates, where they are accus- 
tomed to congregate and repose themselves from the fatigues 
of the day, were now assembled for the same purpose, in 
various groups, a large number of Spanish and Italian soldiers. 
Some of them were walking about, others were standing still 
or sitting down, and some were leaning over the boats drawn 
up along the beach ; and, like the soldiery of every age and 
nation, they had something about them which seemed to say 
— the world is ours. In fact, the citizens themselves gave a 
tacit approval of their impudence by keeping at a distance, 
and giving up to them the best posts. One who fancies he 
figures to himself the appearance of this group by imagining 
a similar gathering of our modern soldiers, in their miserable 
uniform, would be sadly mistaken. 

The army of Gonzales, especially his infantry, although per- 
fectly equipped and the bravest in Christendom, knew no 
more than other soldiers of the 16th century of modem military 
discipline, which has at last succeeded in making every soldier 
just alike from head to foot. Here, on the contrary, every man 
who followed the profession of arms, either as a foot-soldier 
or cavalier, could equip and adorn himself as best suited his 
own fancy, and for this reason there was visible a wonderful 


6 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


diversity in the trappings, colors, and bearing of this group, 
which made it an easy matter to tell the nation each one be- 
longed to. There was the serious, immovable Spaniard, cold 
and arrogant, wrapped (embozados, as they say) in his national 
capa (cloak), below which fell the long and delicate blade of 
Toledo ; and there was the loquacious and gesticulating Italian 
in his frock or doublet, with his bloody cutlass hung to his 
side. 

When the bell struck, the noise ceased in the piazza, and 
nearly every head was uncovered ; for in those times, even 
soldiers believed in God, and sometimes prayed to him. After 
a short pause every hat was again replaced, and the hum 
once more began. Although the general aspect of this assem- 
blage might have seemed at first sight gay and vivacious, it 
was, however, easy to discover among the diflerent groups, 
that one common feeling of sadness and disquiet filled their 
minds, and formed the subject of their conversation. The 
object of this solicitude was, indeed, real and exciting. 
Famine had already begun to make itself felt among the sol- 
diers, and even the inhabitants of Barletta, where the great 
captain had garrisoned his army, waiting the tardy arrival of 
reinforcements from Spain ; for his troops were so inferior in 
numbers to the French, he feared to risk everything upon the 
fortune of a single engagement 

Three sides of the piazza were formed by the miserable 
habitations of fishermen and soldiers, the church, and the 
public imi. ,The fourth opened on the sea, and was strewn, 
according to the custom in such places, with boats, nets, and 
other fishing implements. On the distant verge of the horizon, 
rose up from the sea the dusky form of Mount Gargano, on 
whose lofty peak the last rays of the setting sun were dying 
away. Over the intervening space, a light vessel was slowly 
making her way, tacking every moment to catch the inconstant 
puffs of wind, which broke at intervals the bosom of the gulf. 
But the distance of the vessel, and the dimness of the twilight, 
rendered it impossible to tell her flag. 

One of the Spaniards who stood in the midst of a group of 
soldiers near the beach, had his eyes fixed intently on the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


7 


distant rover, knitting his brows, and twisting his huge mous- 
taches, which were verging from black to grey. “ What art 
thou gazing on there statue-like, so fixed thou canst not turn 
an ear to one who speaks to thee ?” 

This outbreak of a Neapolitan soldier, who had received 
no answer to his first question, was intended to irritate the 
imperturbable Spaniard, but he was not the least disturbed 
— “ Voto a Dios que nuestra Senora de Gaeta (God grant that our 
Lady of Gaeta) who sends fair wind and swift passage to so 
many who pray to her at sea, may now send this vessel to 
us, who pray to her on land, and have nothing to put between 
our teeth but the kicks of a blunderbuss ! — Who knows but 
the craft brings grain and provisions to those French descomul- 
gados (wretches), who have shut us up in this cage to die of 
famine * * * y mala Pasqua me de Dios y sea la primera que 

viniere, si a su gracia el senor Gonzalo Hernandez (May God give 
me a bad Easter, and let it be the first too that comes, if I 
believe his Grace the Lord Gonzales Hernandes), after dining 
well and supping better, cares more for us than the leather he 
treads on.” 

“ What can Gonzales do ?” answered the passionate Nea- 
politan, glad of a chance to begin a dispute. “Ought he to 
turn himself into bread to stuff the belly of a beast like tliee— 
When he has it, he divides it. And the unlucky ships that were 
driven on the shoals, who devoured their cargoes? Was it 
Gonzales or you ?” 

The Spaniard’s countenance underwent a slight change, and 
he was just going to retort, but he was interrupted by one of 
the company, who, slapping him on the shoulder, shook his 
head and lowered his voice to give more weight to his words. 

“ Dost thou not remember, Nufio,” he said, “ that the steel 
of thy pike was within three fingers of the breast of Gonzales, 
at Taranto, the day that strange trick was played off on us to 
pay us for old scores. • * * And if there ever was a day 

I believed thy neck would scrape acquaintance with the halter, 
that was the day. * ♦ * Dost thou remember how many 
tricks thou tried’st to scare the lion ? Canst thou hurl that old 
tower from the castle (pointing to the tower that lifted itself 


8 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


over the town) ? Just as easily as Gonzales, who all cold, cold 
* * it seems to me, I see him this minute with his hairy 
hand parrying the steel, as he told thee, mira que sin querer no 
me hieras * * * (beware, lest thou wound me without 

design).” 

At this moment the brown face of the old soldier looked 
darker than ever, and to break up a conversation which seemed 
little to his liking, he cut off the reply of the Neapolitan by 
saying, “What care I for Taranto, a pike, or Gonzales ?” — 
“ What carest thou ?” answered the first speaker, smiling. “ If 
thou wishest to give an ear to Ruy Perez, and keep thy bread- 
passage safe till God sends us something to eat, speak not 
loud enough for Gonzales to hear thee, and remember Taranto. 
Half a word is too little, and a whole one too much, says the 
Italian proverb, and a man warned is half saved.” 

Nuho muttered indistinctly something in reply, which 
seemed to have little to do with his thoughts ; for the hint he 
had received set him to thinking in spite of himself, and he 
turned a suspicious look around to see if any one was likely 
to take up his rash words. A single glance seemed to satisfy 
him; he had luckily done no mischief. 

The piazza in the mean time was nearly deserted. The hour 
of night sounded out from the castle, and the group we left on 
the beach followed the crowd, and dispersed through the nar- 
row, dark lanes of the city. 

“ Diego Garcia will come back to-night,” said Ruy Perez, as 
they walked along : “ the good lances of his Third have found 
in the country game for the chase, and who knows but to- 
morrow we’ll dine better than we sup to-night !” 

The thoughts excited by this hope, stopped all further dis- 
course, and each one returned in silence to his own habitation. 

While this conversation was going on, the vessel which had 
seemed at first to be passing by in its voyage, was now slowly 
approaching the shore. A boat was lowered from her sides, 
and two men entered it, and hastily pulled for the beach. 
They had no sooner made a landing, than the vessel from which 
they came, shifted her sails, went on her course, and was seen 


the challenge of bar LETT a. 


9 


no more. The boat drew up on the obscurest side of the 
piazza, and the two oarsmen stepped ashore. 

Perceiving no one around the place, the first of the strangers 
stopped to wait for his attendant who remained behind to 
take a portmanteau, and something else, from the boat ; after 
which he drew it up to the head of a small mole which served 
as a landing-place- to larger craft, and then rejoined his com- 
panion, whose bearing had an air of superiority, which indi- 
cated an inequality in their persons. He addressed him a word , 
which seemed to be the conclusion of their conversation 
during their passage to the shore. 

“ Michael, the time has come to be on the guard. Thou 
knowest who I am. I’ll say no more.” 

Michael, who understood very well the force of these few 
syllables, nodded his head in acquiescence, and they passed on 
together to the inn. 

Before the principal door of the house were several small 
pillars of rough brick which supported a portico, under which 
were placed a number of tables for the accommodation of 
guests. The name of the host was Baccio da Rieti ; but the 
people, who had some suspicions against him, had dubbed 
him Veleno (poison), and this was the title by which he was 
generally known. He had caused to be painted between the 
two windows a large red sun, which the painter, according to 
certain astronomical notions not yet extinct, had represented 
with eyes, nose and mouth, the whole encircled by rays of 
the color of gold, in the form of the tail of a swallow, which 
could be seen in the day-time from the distance of a mile. 
The house was divided into two stories. The first served for a 
kitchen and dining-room. A flight of wooden stairs conducted 
to the second, inhabited by the host and his family, and any 
unlucky customer chance brought there for the night. It was 
the common custom in Italy, in those times, to sup at seven 
o’clock ; but at this hour there were only a few soldiers and 
petty officers, who were sitting before the door in the fresh air. 
They belonged to the company of Prospero Colonna, who 
then followed the fortunes of Spain. They were all daring 
young men, and were in the habit of assembling here with the 
1 * 


10 


TIIE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Other bold spirits of the army. The host, who understood his 
business, took good care they lacked neither cards nor wine, 
and being well spiced with fun himself, he knew pretty well 
how to take money out of the pockets of his guests by keeping 
them in good humor. , 

Veleno happened just at this moment to be standing square 
in the door, fanning himself with his cap, his apron gathered up 
on one side, and the jokes, the laughter and the noise, went up 
to the stars. 

The two strangers arrived ; but in order not to appear such, 
they walked leisurely along, stopping frequently to converse 
with each other, and when they came up in front of the door, 
the light within which fell upon them, revealed nothing in 
their dress to distinguish them from ordinary guests. They 
took no notice of any one in the assemblage when they entered 
the inn, if we except a single person who was seated apart. 
He was in a position to observe them closely, and starting up 
suddenly he could not suppress an exclamation of extreme 
surprise — “ the Duke” * * * The manner in which this wmrd 
was pronounced, plainly showed it was to have been followed 
by a name ; but a withering glance from one of the passing 
strangers, was enough to drive this name down the throat of 
the soldier who spoke. No one had appeared to pay much 
attention to his surpris One of his companions simply said : 

“ Boscherino ! what Duke art thou dreaming about ? I’ve not 
seen thee drink to-day. Seems this to thee a place for Dukes ?” 
Boscherino could hardly believe his exclamation had made so 
slight an impression, or that he should be esteemed either a 
sot, or out of his head ; he therefore gave an artful turn to the 
conversation, and resumed the thread of their former discourse. 

Close behmd the two strangers came the host Veleno, with 
his fat slovenly person, his wax, olive complexion, his bearded, 
malicious face, in which appeared a mixture of the Coviello 
and the assassin. Without very much disconcerting himself 
he lifted his cap and said, “ Command me. Signori.” 

The man we have already called Michael replied : — “ Pre- 
pare supper.” 

The host put on a long face, and answered in a sorrowful 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


1 


tone, affecting an air of sincerity, “ Supper ? You mean to say 
a mouthful, I suppose, if we can scrape it together. God only 
knows what this close siege has left us. Why, the loaf of 
bread, that used to cost a cortonese, now costs half a florin, 
and that’s what I pay to the bakers. But at all events, gentle- 
men of your cloth will be sure to pay, so I’ll do my best and 
with this exordium, intended, like all host’s speeches, to make 
his guests pay just five times as much as their fare is worth, 
he opened a closet, and taking out a frying-pan, placed it on 
the furnace. By the help of a wind raised by his apron, which 
puffed up the "ashes to suffocation, a piece of a kid was soon 
warmed, which, if the word of the host could be taken, was 
the only fragment of meat at that moment in Barletta, and had 
been reserved for a certain corporal, who was expected to 
arrive every moment. “ But guests of such a description were 
not to be sent to bed on empty stomachs.” 

However this may have been, the viand was cooked, and 
came on the table in an earthen dish, ornamented with flowers, 
accompanied by a jug of the same material with a large mouth, 
and half a goat’s cheese, as hard as a stone, on which the ' 
impressions of the knives of many a former customer who 
had made their experiments, were clearly visible. The table 
at which they sat, stood at the bottom of the dining hall, if 
we may apply such an epithet to this smoky den. On the 
opposite side, there was a large fire-place with a mantelpiece 
supported by twelve figures, with three or four ovens on either 
side. Before this stood the cook’s table, from the centre of 
which a huge table extended in the form of the letter T nearly 
the length of the room, to the opposite wall where our two 
guests were supping. From the centre beam of the ceiling 
hung a four sided brazen lantern, whose nearly spent flame 
cast just light enough to keep the guests from breaking their 
shins against the benches and stools scattered ajjpund. 

Having provided everything necessary for the supper, the 
host returned to the door, whistling as usual, and just at that 
moment a man came dashing up on a mule, and leaped to the 
ground crying out, “ Courage, boys, cheer up— good news for 
you ; and thou too, Veleno, multiply thyself by twenty and 


12 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


there will yet be enough for all. Diego Garcia has come back 
with his cavalcade, and in a moment will be here for supper. 
He’ll have with him twenty or five-and-twenty good lances, 
and he alone counts for four — so thou mayest obey orders, and 
quick too — Well, * * * what now? Dead art thou? Come, stir 
thyself.” 

The host stood with his mouth wide open ; and the hravi 
jumped up and gathered round the messenger to question him 
about the luck of the hunting party. 

“ You’ll kill me,” roared out the new comer, pushing them 
aside and tearing himself from the crowd — *• and you’ll get 
nothing out of me by it either. If you want to know anything 
shut your mouths” — 

“ Speak then, speak,” they all cried together : “ what news 
have we ?” 

“My news is, that this very minute we have come back 
tired to death, and after being fourteen hours on horseback 
without a drop of water (Hey ! there, Veleno, a mug of your 
best — cold — my throat is as dry as a tinder-box). But forty 
head of large beasts and seventy half-scores of small ones are 
already in Barletta ; and three men-at-arms taken, who, God 
willing, will shell out as many fine gold ducats as we are bap- 
tized Christians if they ever get another look at their own 
thresholds. I tell you it was no easy trick to unhorse them 
and get away their swords. (Art thou coming with that wine 
before I choke to death?) We came down on them like 
thunderbolts, hand to hand. One of them was unhorsed, and 
his wounded charger had him under his feet. They all cried 
out, surrender or thou art a dead man. He jumped to his feet, 
and dealt out some heavy blows with his huge sword ; and 
had he not shivered the blade by a stroke levelled at Inigo’s 
horse, which fell upon the iron pommel of his saddle, we 
should have been obliged to finish him with our lances to pre- 
vent his escape! But he finally gave up to Diego Garcia the 
rest of his sword he still held in his hand.” 

Veleno now came with his liquor, and turned out a draught 
for the narrator, who said to him, “ God bless thee, man — why, 
thou hast come at last !” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. ^ 13 

“ And what is this demon’s name ?” asked Boscherino. 

“ I can’t tell — they say he’s a grand French baron, with a 
name that sounds like La Cratte * * la * * La Motte — ^yes, 
now I remember — yes — La Motte, a grand heoMy you see, that 
makes the earth tremble. Any way, the affair is well ended, 
and we’ll be merry if God will.” Then turning a glance in 
upon the house, he cried out — “What art thou doing there, 
traitor, poltroon ? Nothing on the fire yet ! Shall I take, the 
measure of thy shoulders with this lance ?” 

And the fellow had already entered the inn to execute his 
threat ; but he stopped when he saw a large pot had already 
been put over a pile of oak, which began to kindle and crack ; 
while the host, heated to a perspiration, had banished all 
thought of famine and siege, and set himself busily at work 
to put thmgs in order, well knowing that Paredes and his com- 
panions were not to be trifled with. He had found in a flash 
soipething to make a soup, and flaying a kid, he put a portion 
of it m the pot to boil, while the rest he nm upon two long 
spits and set them to roasting. Things seemed now to be 
making some progress. 

“ Well done !” said the man who had ordered the supper; 
“ well for the Veleno ! Had they come and found things 
out of order, thou wouldst have felt the weight of the five 
fingers of Diego Garcia. Pll go now and send them here in no 
time.” 

“ But Ramazzotto will not be here with them ?” asked one of 
the corporals. 

“ How can I come ? The company is yet on horseback ; I 
must see them lodged and keep an eye on the booty in the 
piazza of the castle, and thou knowest that these hands can’t 
be idle to-night, for there’s one who knows how to keep 
tliem busy. Fieramosca, Miale, Brancaleone, and all our 
company are on guard, and we are to see no disturbance 
takes place to the Spaniards another time, let it cut where it 
may.” 

“ If this be as thou sayest,” rejoined Boscherino, “ we’ll 
come and help thee. Come on, comrades, with goodwill; this 
brave fellow has more miles in his body than we without sleep- 


14 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


ing, and we must help him.” These words brought them all 
from the inn, and they started off together, talking about the 
broils of the day, till they reached the spot where the company 
of Ramazzotto was waiting for him. The latter, reining in his 
horse, rode on slowly, telling stories and answering questions, 
and Boscherino was following on behind, all absorbed in what 
the other was saying, when he felt a sudden jerk of his cloak. 
Turning round, he saw in the shadow a man whom he recog- 
nized as one of the two he left supping at the inn. 

“ Boscherino,” he said in an under voice, stopping him while 
the rest went on, “ the Duke would speak with thee ; fear not, 
for he would do thee no harm : but be on thy guard and 
take care what thou doest — come on.” 

These words sent Boscherino’s blood through his veins with 
the heat of a fever, and in a voice scarcely audible he inquired, 
“ Are you D. Michele ? ” 

“ Yes, I am ; keep the secret and play the man.” 

Boscherino had been a Capo Squadra of Signor Gio Pagolo 
Baglioni, and of several other Italian lords. He had always 
behaved valiantly through all the wars of the times, and no 
man in battle was more reckless of danger. He had gathered 
a troop of five hundred infantry and one hundred arquebusers, 
under a commission from Signor Prospero, and marched to the 
relief of Gonzales, who had given him a generous stipend, 
and treated him with the utmost confidence. 

But great as was his courage, he quailed under the terrible 
words of D. Michele ; he well knew before whom he would 
be obliged in a few moments to stand, and in spite of himself, 
his knees shook with terror. Could he have had his own 
choice, he would gladly have gone to the field alone against 
ten of the bravest lances, rather than undergo this meeting. 
Reflecting on what had passed, the truth soon flashed on him. 

“ I’m but too certain,” said he to himself, “ he heard my 
exclamation, the Duke. * * The infernal devil himself moved 
my tongue — ^but yet I was in a distant part of the room, and it 
seems to me I did not raise my voice much. But what will 
not that villain, scoundrel, yet do, and what damnable deed 
has brought him here ? ” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAR LETT A. 


15 


Such were his thoughts as the two took their way back to 
the inn. Nobody but the people of the house were left in the 
kitchen, for the Duke had gone to his chamber, which was 
over the eating-room, and the pianks of the floor were so filled 
with cracks that everything could be seen and heard which 
took place below. 

The host had more than suspected his guest was not what 
he appeared- to be, but being closely besieged by the enemy on 
land, all kinds of visitors came to “flie town by sea, and he 
disturbed himself very little, although now and then some 
one happened along of a diflerent stamp from his ordinary 
guests. 

D. Michele and Boscherino mounted the stair-case and 
entered the Duke’s room. A bed covered with a brown spread ; 
a small table, and a few chairs, made up the furniture of the 
chamber. The lantern which burned dimly, was utterly extin- 
guished by the draught which came in from the door as it 
opened, and while D. Michele went below for another light, 
Boscherino was left alone with the Duke. He remained 
immovably fixed against the wall, afraid to speak, or even to 
breathe, but ashamed withal to find himself petrified with 
dread, when but a few moments before he did not fear a man 
in the world. But the consciousness of being in the presence 
of that strange, terrible man, and feeling he was so near, he 
might hear in the silence his rapid breathing, sent, in spite of 
himself, such a chill of horror through his whole frame, that he 
W'ished he was dead. D. Michele returned with a light, and 
the Duke was sitting on the side of the bed. His presence 
was that of a man who had never known what was repose, 
either of body or soul. He was well formed, but lean and 
sinewy, only slightly above an ordinary stature, and he showed 
a kind of nervousness in every movement, which could not be 
described. He was dressed in a dark mantle, with slashed 
sleeves gathered up in large folds. A slender dagger was 
sheathed in his belt, and his sword lay upon the table, with 
a hat adorned with a single black plume. His hands were 
gloved, and his feet dressed in large travelling boots. He 
turned upon the two his pallid face. His cheeks were hollow. 


16 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAR LETT A. 


and covered with livid spots ; his moustache was sandy, and 
his beard hung down, divided upon his breast. But liis 
glance was like nothing else in the world. At will, his eye 
became more venomous tha q, . a^^sei^enPs. sweeter than a 
young child’s, or more terrible than ^e J)loody pupil of the 
hyena. ^ 

He cast a mild and encouraging look upon Boscherino, who 
had shrunk into half his si^e, still standing in the same spot, as 
if awaiting the sentence ^ death ; but Boscherino knew the 
man who spoke to him, ana he felt no assurance. 

“ I have been recognized by tft^, Boscherino,” he said, “ and 
I am glad. 1 always had thee for a brave and a faithful man, 
and had’st thou not seen me, I would have sought thee out. 
I well knew thou wert here. Tell no one thou hast seen me. 
Thou knowest 1 can reward thy services, nor will it improve 
thy prospects much, to excite my displeasure.” 

The Capo Squadra knew he spoke the truth, and he re- 
plied : “ Your Excellency can dispose of me at your pleasure, 
and I will be, as I have always been, your faithful servant. 
I believe what I say is confirmed by my past life. 1 only pray 
your Excellency to deign to suffer me to speak a few words 
with liberty.” 

The Duke nodded his assent, and he continued : 

“ You have, illustrious Signore, my word of honor, which 
cannot be broken. But some one may have seen you. If your 
secret is divulged, and I leave this room, the blame might fall 
unjustly on my shoulders.” 

“ Go,” replied the Duke, “ and fear nothing— prove thyself 
a man of honor, and fear no blame from me so long as thou 
dost not merit it. I only wish my presence here to be kept 
secret a few hours ; then the whole, world may laiow it, and 
say what they please. But as thou prizest my favor, let not the 
secret pass thy mouth.” 

Boscherino made no reply to these words. He bowed his 
head with reverence, showily by his manner that sort of a 
readiness to obey his master, which indicated no other un- 
easuiess than a fear of not being esteemed sufficiently obedient. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


17 


He took his leave, and bowed himself out of the room, where 
he seemed to have been a thousand years. After some minutes, 
D. Michele also came out, and went to the room assigned him, 
and the upper story of the inn for the rest of that night re- 
mained as quiet as though it were uninhabited. 


CHAPTER IT. 


The company for whom supper had been prepared reached 
the house of Veleno about two o’clock at night, and in a single 
moment they filled the grand room, where the table was laid. 
The host, jealous of his honor, had made out to embellish his 
table with clean white linen, and besides dishes and plates of 
silver and copper, which were unusually bright, because they 
had been scoured with greater diligence, there were scattered 
here and there over the table vine leaves, for the bottles and 
goblets to stand on, and a thousand drops of water were glit- 
tering on their sides, under the light of the lamps, giving good 
testimony of their having been newly rinsed. Diego Garcia di 
Paredes entered first, and was followed by the French barons, 
Jacques de Guignes, Girant de Forses and La Motte, his pris- 
oners. The Spaniard, the boldest and most powerful man m 
the army, and perhaps in all Europe, seemed formed by nature 
expressly for the profession of arms, where success used to de- 
pend almost entirely upon robustness and muscular strength. 
His stature towered over his companions, and constant ex- 
posure, which cuts away the fat from the limbs in such a 
temperament, had given so enormous a size to every muscle 
that appeared in his breast and shoulders, and throughout his 
entire body, that he seemed to resemble the colossal forms of 
ancient sculpture — for he was athletic, and at the same time 
beautifully proportioned. His neck, thick like a bull’s, wielded 
a small head with curly hqv,\ which grew high up behind his 
ears ; and his countenance was manly and bold, but without 
a shade of arrogance. The aspect of D. Garcia was not want- 
ing in a certain grace, and there could be read in his counte- 
nance a frank soul, loyal and full of honor, He had already 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


19 


laid aside his armor, and now appeared in his tight fitting dress 
of skin, which made the very form of his muscles as clearly 
visible at every movement, as though they had been naked. 
A short Spanish mantle thrown across his shoulders, completed 
his simple dress. 

“ Signori Barons,” said he, ushering in the prisoners with 
knightly courtesy, “ we Spaniards have a saying, duelos con pan 
son menos (troubles are more tolerable where there’s plenty to 
eat). Fortune has frowned on you to-day — to-morrow perhaps 
she may frown on us — but in the mean time we are friends 
here; let us sup now in the narhe of God ; for in this we shall all 
be agreed. More than one lance has gone to pieces, and that 
will answer for to-day, and there is no danger for the future 
we shall let our armor rust. Be of good cheer then, and 
to-morrow will show you, when we negotiate for your ran- 
som, that D. Garcia knows how to treat honorably a noble 
cavalier.” 

The countenance of La Motte showed the ire he could not 
conceal. He was a valiant soldier, impetuous in the onset 
of battle, and his aspect was equal to his courage ; but he was 
the proudest man in the world, and could not brook courtesy 
from one who had made him a prisoner. But conscious of 
the meanness of showing his disdain, he bridled his passion, 
and replied as mildly as he could — 

“ If your hand is as light in imposing a ransom as in striking 
a tranchant blow, his most Christian Majesty will draw on his 
own purse if he requires our services again, or I shall keep 
you company the rest of my days.” 

“ Inigo,” said Peredes, turning to a fine-looking young man 
of five-and-twenty, who, impatient for supper, had already 
laid his hand upon the bread, “ if we must talk about strokes 
of the blade we shall have to ask your horse how he relishes 
the cuts of this Baron ;” and then directing his discourse to La 
Motte — A 

“ I bethink myself a little too late that you are disarmed : 
Here is my sword ;” and taking it from his side he bound it upon 
the prisoner. “ It would be a shame that an arm like yours 
should not find some true blade to rest on. You will tread 


20 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Barletta for a prison till the day of ransom or exchange of 
prisoners. Your 'parole d’ honneur. Sir Knight.” 

La Motte extended his right hand to Peredes, who grasped it, 
and added, “ Your companions are bound by the same obli- 
gation ; is it not so ? ” And as he said this he turned to Correa 
and Azevedo, two men at-arms, who had captured the com- 
panion of La Motte. They signified their acquiescence, and 
with the same courtesy both took their swords from their sides, 
and buckled them to the waists of the French Barons. 

“ Supper, Signori ! ” cried out Veleno at this moment, bring- 
ing upon the table a large earthen dish, which held one half of 
the kid in a bed of onions and pulse; and two other deep 
plates of salad he placed on the ends of the board. The 
sight of the smoking viands was no less potent than the call 
of the host to assemble the half famished company around the 
table. Stools were hastily drawn up. In a single moment 
they were all seated and at work, and for several minutes 
not a sound was heard but the clattering of knives, forks, dishes 
and goblets. 

Diego Garcia was seated at the head of the table, with La 
Motte on one side and De Guignes on the other. He laid his 
large dagger upon the dish, and the animal was soon cut to 
pieces and divided among the guests. His own iron stomach, 
served by two rows of strong teeth of incomparable whiteness, 
was soon appeased if not satisfied. He left not a bone on his 
plate, for no mastiif could pride himself on his ability to re- 
duce them to powder quicker than he. When he had finished 
his plate, he filled the goblets of his guests on the right and left, 
and then his own. These were soon turned off; and their 
voracious appetites being somewhat appeased, conversation 
gradually revived, made up of questions, answers, and retorts, 
on the engagements, the horses, the blows, and in a smgle 
word, all the incidents of the day. At the foot of the table, 
surrounded by more thai^wenty Spaniards, who had courte- 
ously resigned to their l^der, and the prisoners, what they 
called the cabecera (the head of the table), there was visible a 
certain fraternal intimacy in every act and word, which is be- 
gotten only b^ a frequent and common exposure to the greatest 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


21 


dangers, where men learn to prize the promptness which is 
always ready to aid in the moment of peril. 

The weather-beaten, sun-burnt faces of these soldiers, in- 
flamed still more by the excitement of the goblet, and the fatigue 
of the day, produced an effect of chiaro scuro, as the lamps 
shone full upon them, worthy of the pencil of Gherardo delle 
Notti. 

As supper drew to a close, conversation as usual became 
more general, and the glad laugh went up noisily from the gay 
company, who had come off* with profit and with honor 
from the martial struggles of the day. The forehead of Inigo 
was the only one around that board from which every mark of 
fatigue had not passed away. He sat with his elbow resting 
on the table, looking around the circle, but making little or no 
reply to the sallies of his companions. 

“ Inigo,” said Azevedo, extending towards him his hand, after 
having drank a glass more than usual, for he was a gay fel- 
low, and hated the very shadow of melancholy on the brow 
of his companions. “ Inigo, one would swear thou wert in 
love, if the women of Barletta could merit the glances of so 
handsome a youth. But, here, thank God, we are safe — and I 
^ pray thou mayest not have left thy heart in Spain, or at Naples.” 

“ I am not thinking of the women, Azevedo,” replied the 
youth, “ but of the good steed that Baron fell upon, and nearly 
killed like a madman, when he saw he could not escape from 
us. Poor Castano ! his shoulder is lost, I fear, and never shall 
I mount his equal. Dost thou remember what the noble fellow 
^ did at Taranto, when he forded that river, ♦ * * i don’t 
remember the name, * * * when Quinones was killed, 

^ and the water was deeper than we expected ; who was the 
first to reach the bank ? And after so many trials, and so many 
dangers, to thmk he must end his life at the hands of this ene- 
my of God ! !” 

“ But raise not thy voice so,” interposed Correa. “ It was 
all done in fair fight. We mustt)e civil to our prisoners, 
nor must they hear such words.” 

“ And I swear to thee,” rejoined Inigo, “ I would fall wounded 
oil the field, could I see my poor Castano sound agam. I would 


22 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


have pardoned the Frenchman,- had he broken his sword over 
my head, instead of choosing the head of my horse. Man to 
man we strike — at least such is the play of every man who 
knows how to wield a blade, and not at random like the blows 
of a madman. Cursed fellow ! He seemed to be hunting about 
to kill flies instead of warriors.” 

“ Thou art right by heaven,” cried out Segredo, an old 
soldier with moustache and beard which showed he had 
seen more than one fight, “ when I was of thy age, I felt like 
thee ; look at my forehead,” said he, slapping it lightly with a 
hand covered with an iron gauntlet, and showing a horizontal 
scar that extended over his eye-brow. “ This I got from El 
Rey Chico, for my love for the most beautiful bay charger in the 
camp. A.h ! he could be called a horse ! When we made a 
charge in battle I had only to slack his rein a bit thus, and 
touch him with the spur, and what would you see ? He reared 
on his quarters and shot forward, and on my word, I tell you I 
I could only keep myself from shooting over his head by 
pressing my legs against his sides. And when my good sword 
fell with his plunge, it was like the bolt of God, and it sent 
more than one Moor to sup with Satan. And the Siesta ; why ! 

I always slept under the shadow of his body, between his 
legs, poor Zamoreno de mi alma, and he was even afraid to 
switch away die flies for fear of disturbing me. At the siege of 
Carthagena, where few of you could have been, and where 
the Great Captain began to make himself known — and Segredo, 
can tell you war was a good trade then — a little better than 
now, at any rate ; fighting under the very eyes of king Don 
Ferdinand, and of the Queen Isabella, who was beauty itself, 
and of all the Court, and well paid and kept, with our horses, as 
though we had been in the palace of a Prince. But to go gn 
about my horse. In an engagement where the Rey Chico 
fought like a lion in the front rank of his men (he was a man 
who would not have reached to my breast, but he had an arm 
which left a mark where it fell), that poor animal was pierced 
thtough and through the neck with a Moorish lance, and for the 
first time in his life, fell on his knees. I leaped to the ground, 
and saw there was no help ; but I hoped to lead him by the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARELTTA. 


23 


bridle to the camp, for I would not have abandoned him for the 
world. He followed me till his legs could no longer bear him up, 
and I’m not ashamed to say it, the hot tears fell down upon my 
breast-plate and bathed my neck, and I never knew before 
what it was to weep. Just then a squadron of Moors who had 
been pressed hard by our men-at-arms, turned back and came 
rushing by with their king ahead, bellowing like a bull. I 
found myself surrounded by the flying troop, alone and un- 
horsed, and I saw I was gone. I parried the blows which fell 
thick around me, till the blade of the king split open my hel- 
met, and I fell to the ground and was left for dead. When I 
came to, and could raise myself up, I found my poor Zamoreno 
stretched dead by my side.” 

The sad fate of Segredo’s steed was listened to with compas- 
sionate interest by the entire company, and when the old soldier 
finished his story, he could not but betray upon his time-fur- 
rowed countenance, that the memory of his faithful companion 
still lived green in his heart. He felt mortified that his weak- 
ness had been discovered, and he turned to his goblet to divert 
the steady looks of the company. 

Jacques de Guignes, who had, with the rest of his fellow-pris- 
oners, become a little cheerful as he went on, filling his stomach, 
heard the history of Zamoreno, and then began: — 

“ Chez nous, Mons. le Cavalier, this would not have so 
easily happened, although it’s too true les bonnes couiumes de 
cJievalerie are being corrupted every day. However, a man-at- 
arms would consider himself dishonored if against equal odds 
he should deal a blow upon the horse of his enemy. But such 
courtesy, as everybody knows, is not to be expected from the 
Moors.” 

“ And yet,” replied Inigo to the speech which was not directed 
towards him, “ it would be no difficult matter to show that 
the custom of butchering horses is not confined exclusively to 
the Moors. Witness the plains of Benevento, and the noble 
Manfredi ; and Charles of Anjou who gave the order was no 
more Moor than you or me.” 

The thrust was well directed, and it made the Frenchman 
writhe. 


24 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


“ So the Story goes, and it may be true ; but Charles of 
Anjou was fighting for a kingdom with an excommunicated 
enemy of the Church for a rival.” 

“ Yes, but a rival who was fighting to protect his own, £ind 
not to rob,” interrupted Inigo, with a bitter smile. 

“ I hope you are not ignorant,” said La Motte, taking up the 
dispute, “ that the realm of Naples is a fief of the Holy See, 
and Charles was invested with it by the Ponthf; and besides, 
the right of a valiant sword is something.” 

“ But yet * * but yet * * let us take matters as they are,” re- 
plied Inigo. “ The bearded Germans of Manfredi, and the 
thousand Italian cavaliers led on by Count Giordano, who 
fought against the French, gave pretty good testimony from the 
moment the battle began, that Charles of Anjou thought it 
might help him a little in making himself king of Naples, to 
resort to this expedient, in spite of les bonnes coutumes de cheval- 
erie so rife in these times.” 

I concede to you if you like,” rejoined La Motte, “ that the 
Germans are worth something under their mail, and were 
able to withstand, for a few charges, the French Gendarmerie y 
on the bloody day of Benevento. But as for your thousand 
Italians; really! if two hundred years ago, they were such 
as we find them in our days, the French had very little need 
for wasting their time in killing their poor horses to put their 
riders to flight. . During the five years I’ve been roaming over 
Italy, I have learned to know them well. I have followed king 
Charles under the banner of the preux Louis d’Ars, and [ 
assure you the treachery of the Italians has given us more 
trouble than their swords, — the only war they practise, and 
the only one French loyalty discards.” 

These inflated words were not much relished by any of the 
party, and least of all by Inigo, a youth endowed with a rare 
genius and culture. He was a friend of many of the Italians 
who fought under the banners of Spain, and knew the history 
of Charles’ invasion of Italy. He knew (to cite a smgle case) 
how the French, in spite of their loyalty, had kept their treaty 
with the Florentines by stirring up the rebellion hi Pisa. He 
knew, too, that the fortresses imprudently entrusted to their 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


26 


keeping by Pietro de Medici, under the sacredness of a treaty, 
had not been restored at the stipulated time. All this now 
flashed on his memory, and the words of La Motte roused all 
his indignation. He could not brook to hear the unfortunate 
Italians, who had been betrayed and insulted by Frenchmen, 
now vituperated by these same traitors. He was just ready 
to give vent to his ire, but the Baron, who said he had been 
stung by his words, cut off his reply. 

“ You have but recently arrived from Spain, Signori, and as 
yet know not this vagabond Italian race. You have not yet 
had to deal with the Duke Ludovico, nor with the Pontiff, nor 
with Valentino (Caesar Borgia), who first receive you with 
open arms, and then wait their chance to tear out your vitals. 
But Fornovo showed what a handful of brave men can do 
against a cloud of traitors, and the Moor himself was the first 
one taken in his own snares. Villain ! if he had no crime to 
weigh down his soul but the murder of his nephew, that alone 
would brand him the most infamous of assassins.” 

“ But,” said Correa, “ his nephew was sickly, and hadn’t 
common sense, and it may easily be believed he died a natural 
death.” ^ 

“A natural death! Yes, a death just as natural as all die 
who have poison given to them. De Forses and de Guignes 
know something of this business, as well as myself, for we 
were all lodged in the castle of Pavia. The King went to visit 
the wretched family of Galeazzo, and I learn all this from the 
mouths of Filippo de Comines, who received it from the lips of 
the King himself. The Moor led him through certain dark 
passages, till they came to two low damp rooms, which looked 
out on the ditches around the castle, and here he found the Duke 
of Milan, with his wife Isabella, and their children. The 
mother threw herself at the feet of the King, imploring him to 
save her father, and would have prayed him for herself and 
her husband, but that traitor Moor was present. Poor 
Galeazzo, pallid and emaciated, said little, but seemed over- 
whelmed and stupefied by the enormity of his misfortune ; the 
poison which killed him was that very hour working in his 
veins. * * * And there is Cesar Borgia, to cite another ; 


2 


96 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


where will you find a match to this couple ? We have witnessed 
two deeds which would not be believed when related, and 
besides, many other of his doings are sufficiently known. 
All the world know how he managed to make himself master 
of ilomagna. All the world know he has assassinated his bro- 
ther-ju-law, poisoned Cardinals, Bishops, and hosts of others 
who stood in his way.” And then turning to his countrymen, 
with the air of a man who is going to relate a deed well 
known, and one which will inspire compassion, he con- 
tinued, “ Poor Ginevra de Monreale ! The most beautiful, 
virtuous, and amiable woman I ever knew ! My compa- 
nions here remember her — we saw her in our passage to 
Rome in ’92. Her evil destiny made her known to Duke 
Valentino, who was already Cardinal. She had been forced 
by her father into a marriage with one of our officers. She 
w’as seized with a malady none could understand — every 
remedy was resorted to, but all in vain — she seemed fated 
to die. But a strange accident revealed to me a hellish 
secret, known to but few. Her malady was nothing more 
nor less thanpowow given to her by , Valentino, in revenge for 
her unconquerable virtue. Poor creature — Are not these 
crimes to call down the bolts of Heaven ? ” 

Here the Frenchman stopped, and seemed to be trying to 
recall some circumstance time had obliterated from his 
memory. 

“ But — yes, I’m not mistaken. To-day, in coming to Bar- 
letta, I saw among your men-at-arms one whose name has 
escaped me, whom I remember very well to have met often 
in Rome at that period, for his form and countenance are not 
easily forgotten. It was rumored he was the secret lover of 
Ginevra, and after her death he disappeared, and no one has 
heard of him since.” Turning to his companions, . he said, 
“ When we stopped at the fountain, a mile from the city, to 
wait for the infantry to come up, that pale young man, with his 
chestnut hair and the most beautiful and the saddest face I ever 
beheld,— yes— yes— it’s him without a question— but if I should 
die, I can’t tell his name.” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


27 


The Spaniards looked at him inquiringly, curious to know of 
whom he spoke, “ Was he an Italian ?” asked one. 

“ les ! Italian. It’s true he did not open his lips, but a com- 
panion who dismounted from his horse and handed him water, 
spoke to him in Italian — ” 

“ And his arms ? — ” 

“ It seems to me he wore a polished cuirass, with a coat of 
mail, and if I mistake not, a plume and a scarf of blue.” 

Inigo was the first to cry out, “ Ettore Fieramosca.” 

“ Fieramosca exactly,” answered La Motte, “ now I remem- 
ber — Fieramosca. Well, this^ Fieramosca was enamored of 
Ginevra (at least so said rumor), and not being seen after her 
death, every one supposed he had killed himself.” 

When they heard these words, the Spaniards remarked among 
themselves, that this explained the mystery of his deep melan- 
choly, and his always keeping himself retired from young 
soldiers -of his own rank. But all joined in praising his 
generous nature, his valor, his courtesy, Avhich gave some 
indication of the love borne to him by the whole army. Above 
all, Inigo, who was his friend, and like every generous mind, 
admired without jealousy the noble characteristics of the 
Italian soldier, and loved them the more, the more he knew 
them, took up the discourse, and spoke in his praise with all the 
ardor that burns in the friendship of a Spanish heart. 

“ You admire his face and who would not ? But what does 
beauty avail a man? If you but knew the soul of the youth — 
the nobility, the greatness of his heart. All he has dared in 
battle with invincible courage, sword in hand, which in most 
cases is attended by a kind of desperation, is in him even in the 
hour of deepest peril always tempered by a steady coolness. 
During my life I have known many a brave youth at the Courts 
of France and of Spain, but on the word of a knight, I tell you 
the equal of this Italian, who by Heaven unites everything in 
himself, I have never found and never expect to.” 

The admiration Fieramosca commanded throughout the 
army was such, every one strove to be foremost in his praises, 
nor did the old Segredo prove himself less enthusiastic than 
the rest. 


28 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


“ Although,” said he, “ I never had time to throw away upon 
the women, and never understood how a mail-covered heart 
could be tormented about them, yet that brave youth, to see 
him always so sad, with that gloomy face, stirs up in me a kind 
of feeling which I can hardly understand myself, and, por Dios 
santo, I have not a horse except Pardo I would not part with 
see him give one good hearty laugh.” 

“ I said it was disappointment in love !” exclaimed Azevedo. 
/ “ When you see a young man pale, taciturn and fond of soli- 
tude, there’s no mistake it’s an affair of a petticoat. However, 
it’s true (said he smiling), that sometimes a few games that 
ruin one’s sequins make the owner’s cup bitter, and himself as 
pale and melancholy as half a score of petticoats — but as for 
this, it’s quite a different affair and don’t last as long. And as 
for Fieramosca, there’s no danger to him on this score. I never 
saw him with a card in his hand. Now I understand the secret 
of his nocturnal wanderings. My windows, you know, look 
out on the mole. More than once have I seen him, late at night, 
get into a boat alone, and pull off and shoot round behind the 
castle. Pleasant voyage, says I, getting into bed, every one to 
^ his liking. I suppose he was on some love-trip, but I never 
dreamed he went out in the sea to weep over one who was in 
the other world. It seems impossible such a soldier should 
give himself up to the control of such nonsense !” 

“ This proves,” retorted Inigo with warmth, “ that a kind and 
loving heart may beat in the breast of a man who can look 
boldly into the face of an enemy ; and blessed be God that in 
this, justice is rendered to Fieramosca, and to all the Italians 
who* follow the standard of Colonna. Not a knight with a 
sword at his side, and a lance in rest, can boast of bearing them 
more bravely than he.” 

To this encomium, poured out with all the enthusiasm of an 
open and truth-loving soul, the Spaniards signified by words 
and gestures the approbation they could not withhold, for they 
were daily spectators of the bravery of the Italian knights. 
But not so with the three prisoners, irritated by the conver- 
sation and heated by wine. La Motte, particularly, who had 
been receiving the thrusts of Inigo throughout the entire 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


29 


evening, could not bend his proud sphit to esteem anything 
equal to himself and his companions. To the words, therefore, 
of the Spaniard, he replied .with a studied sneer and a con- 
temptuous look which made the blood of the fiery young soldier 
mount to his hair, and his indignation was more deeply roused 
as La Motte went on — 

“ On this point, Mons. le Cavalier, neither I nor my com- 
panions are of your opinion. For many years we have borne 
arms in Italy, and as I have already hinted, we have much 
oftener seen stilettoes and poison resorted to than lances and 
swords, and I beg you to believe it, a French gendarme 
(contorting his face grotesquely) would b€ ashamed to make a 
man groom of his stable, who had no more bravery than one 
of these Italian poltroons. And yet such are the villains you 
compare with us ! !” 

“ Listen, Sir Knight, and keep your ears wide-open,” retorted 
Inigo, who could no longer restrain his passion when he heard 
such villany charged on his friends, and was waiting for a 
good chance to vent his rage on him for killing his horse. 
“ Were one of our Italians here, and above all, Fieramosca, 
and you who are a prisoner of Garcia, were only free, you 
would have occasion to learn, before going to bed to-night, 
that a French knight would have good use for both his hands 
to save his skin from the good sword of a single Italian. But 
since you are prisoners, and there are none but Spaniards 
present, 1 who am a friend of Fieramosca, and of the Italians, 
tell you in their name, that you, or whoever he may be, who 
dares say they are afraid to meet any man living in mortal 
combat, and that they are, as you declare, poltroons and trai- 
tors, lies in his throat, and they are ready to measure them- 
selves with any man in the world, on foot or on horse, full 
armed, or only with a naked blade, where and when, and at all 
times you like !” 

La Motte and his companions, who had at the commence- 
ment of these words turned a proud look upon the speaker, 
now showed, by the change in their countenances, that they 
waited for the end with astonishment and anxiety. As in the 
midst of revelling and mirth, when a voice is heard above 


30 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


the gay throng, speaking words of steel and blood, and all 
hush and turn to listen to the startling message, so hushed 
the noisy mirth that went up from this table, and every Span- 
iard sat still ill his place, and listened to know the end of this 
first rupture. 

“We are prisoners,” answered La Motte with ostentatious 
modesty, “ and cannot accept challenges ; nevertheless, wdth 
the permission of the knights who have received our swords, 
and who be it understood will receive from’us a just ransom, 
I answer in my own name, and that of my companions and of all 
the chivalry of France, and I repeat* what I have already said 
once, and which I will declare for ever, that the Italians are fit 
only to perpetrate deeds of treachery, and are cowards in war, 
that they are the most contemptible soldiers that ever set foot 
in stirrup, or buckled on a cuirass, and who says I lie lies 
himself, and I’ll maintain my words blade in hand.” 

Then taking from his breast a crucifix of gold, he kissed it 
and laid it on the table. “ And may I lose all hope in this 
emblem of our salvation when my last hour comes, and be 
branded a recreant knight, unworthy of bearing the golden 
spurs, if I and my companions do not answer to the challenge 
the Italians send me through your lips ; and with the grace of 
God, our Lady and St. Denis, to favor our cause, we’ll show the 
whole world the difference between the chivalry of France, 
and the canaille of Italy whom you espouse.” 

“ Let it be so in God’s name,” answered Inigo. Then opening 
his doublet he drew from his neck an image of the Madonna 
of Monserrato, with which he made the sign of the cross, and 
laid it beside the golden cross of La Motte ; and although he 
felt a slight sense of humiliation, that his poverty did not suffer 
him to offer a pledge of battle equal in value to that of La 
Motte, yet he triumphed over his shame and boldly said : — 

“ Here is my pledge. Diego Garcia will take them both in the 
name of Gonzales, who will not refuse a free field to oiu* 
noble friends, nor to the French chivalry who come to try 
their steel.” 

“ Certainly not,” answered Garcia, as he took the pledges 
of the challenge. “ Gonzales never will hinder these brave 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


31 


knights from measuring their swords, and doing the duty of 
good cavaliers. But you, Mons. Le Baron (speaking lo La 
Motte), will have a harder bone to grind between •your teeth 
than you think for.” 

“ Oest notre affaire” replied the Frenchman, shaking his head 
with a smile. “ Neither I nor my companions dread the most 
perilous and the most brilliant action of our lives, which shall 
be that in which we will show this brave Spaniard his mistake, 
hurling four Italians from their saddles.” 

Diego Garcia, who never felt really alive except when he 
was in the heat of a battle, or talking about coming to a fight, 
could hardly contain himself as he listened to these preliminaries 
of the challenge which without doubt would bring the com- 
batants to the field with all the enthusiasm national honor 
could inspire ; and raising his voice and head, and clapping his 
brawny hands together, which could have grasped a Samson, 
he cried out : — 

“ Your words, brave knights, are worthy of the men of honor 
and the soldiers you are, and I’m sure they’ll not be dishonored 
by your deeds. Here ’s to the brave of all nations for ever !” 
Saying this, he was imitated by the rest of the company, and 
raising their goblets, they all drained them more than once with 
mirthful joy in honor of the future victors. When the gaiety 
had in part subsided, Inigo continued : 

“ The insult you have offered, Mons. Knight, to Italian valor is 
not a matter my friends will pass over so lightly, nor will it end 
like a gay tournament in the shivering of a single lance. I speak 
not now of the number of the combatants. This will be settled 
by the parties themselves. But however this may be, I offer 
to you, and to yours, battle in full armor, and to the last drop 
of blood ; nor must the combat cease till the last man is either 
dead or captured, or compelled to fly from the field. Do you 
accept these terms ?” 

“ I do.” 

This being adjusted and nothing more left to be done, the 
fatigues of the day, and the lateness of the hour, invited each 
one to his repose. The entire company rose from the table by 
common consent, and leaving the inn, senarated in couples to 


32 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


go to their several habitations. The French Barons were 
honorably treated, and assigned rooms near the knights who 
had captured them. In spite of the bravadoes they had used 
to show their contempt for the Italians, we think we may ven- 
ture to say they had a secret conviction confirmed by long 
experience, that to come off with honor from their engage- 
ment, they would have need of something more than words. 
Even Inigo himself, although more than certain of the valor of 
his friends, and that when the gloiy of the Italian arms was at 
stake they would face the bravest steel in the world, still knew 
their adversaries were far from being contemptible on the field. 
These same Barons wielded the bravest swords in all the 
French army, and even he too could not but think anxiously 
of the final issue of this decisive combat. In fact. La Motte 
and his companions were men who would not quail in any 
field. Their prowess was known to all the soldiers of those 
times, and in the French army there were many others not a 
whit inferior to them in courage or address. The name of the 
brave Bajordo alone was enough to add weight to their scale. 

But all these reflections were far from making the proud 
Spaniard repent for one moment ; he had espoused the cause 
of the Italians, for he felt he would have been guilty of cow- 
ardice to have supported the insult hurled so meanly by the 
prisoners against his own friends, and he confidently asked 
himself the question, how the man who fought for the honor 
of his country could ever be conquered*? • With such reason- 
ings, he reassured his confidence, and prepared to confer the 
next morning with Fieramosca, and use all the necessary 
diligence to secure the triumph of the cause he had espoused. 
Filled with these generous resolves, he threw himself on his 
couch for the night. But he was too excited to sleep, and he 
waited for the light of the morning to come through his win- 
dow, to begin the execution of his lofty purpose. 


CHAPTER III. 


The Castle of Barletta, occupied by Gonzales and his chief 
officers, stood between the large piazza of the town and the 
sea. In the neighboring houses were lodged all the Spanish 
and Italian officers with their men. In one of the best of these 
habitations the two brothers, Prospero and Fabrizio Colonna, 
had taken their quarters, with the sumptuous train of attendants, 
familiars and horses, which made up the suite of that illustri- 
ous house. Ettore Fieramosca was dearer to them than any 
of the brave knights who followed their banners ; for they had 
long known his brilliant qualities, and treated him like a son. 
They had assigned him, on the shore of the sea, near their own 
dwelling, a small house, which afforded comfortable quar- 
ters for himself, his servants, his horses and baggage. The 
windows of the highest room, which he used for his own 
private chamber, looked out on the east. 

Our scene opens on the morning after the supper at the 
inn. It was yet so early the twilight dawn left the dingy Ime 
of the sea indistinct on the horizon ; but the young Fieramosca 
had already left his couch, where he did not always find tran- 
quil slumber, and gone out upon a terrace, under which the 
light waves that came with the fresh morning breeze from 
the sea were gently beating. Poor dwellers in northern climes ! 
Ye know not the value of such an hour under the beautiful sky 
of the sweet south, on the shore of the sea, while nature is 
yet in her dreamy sleep, and the silence is hardly broken by 
the subdued heavings of the sea, which, like thought, has had 
no repose since the dawn of creation, nor shall have for 
ever. He who has never found himself alone at this hour, 
nor felt his fevered cheek fanned by the last flap of night’s 
2 * 


34 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


wing, as it flies away from the heat of the mortiing, steal- 
ing along the beautiful sea-coast of the Kingdom of Naples, 
does not yet know the divine beauty of everything God has 
created. 

Along the wall of the terrace a palm-tree grew. Our young 
soldier was sitting on the parapet, his shoulders leaning 
against the trunk, with his hands clasped on his knee, enjoy- 
ing the quiet interval and the pure air which precede the 
Aurora. He was gifted by nature with the precious endow- 
ment of feeling vividly all that is good, or grand, or beautiful. 
His sole defect, if such it may be called, was generosity to 
a fault. But inured to arms from his childhood, he early learned 
men and things, and his upright and enlightened judgment 
defined the limits by which goodness itself must be controlled, 
that it may not degenerate into weakness ; and the rigidity 
men often acquire who are familiar with danger became, in a 
heart like his, a tempered decision which constitutes a worthy 
and invaluable treasure in a manly soul. * 

The father of Fieramosca was a gentleman of Capua, of the 
school of Braccio da Montone, and having grown old in the 
wars which lacerated Italy during the fifteenth century, he had 
no inheritance to leave to Ettore but his sword. From his 
childhood, therefore, he had felt there was no calling worthy 
of him but arms, and for many years he could have no idea 
superior to his times in which no man led the life of a soldier 
except to win glory or wealth. 

But his mind expanded, as it became more mature, and 
instead of wasting the leisure hours he was not in the saddle, 
in hunting, tilling and juvenile sports, he devoted them to the 
study of letters. A knowledge of the ancient authors and the 
illustrious deeds of the men who had spilt their blood for their 
country, and not for the gold of the highest bidder, taught him 
the deep baseness of the soldier who buckled on his armor 
only to grow rich by the spoil of the weak, and not for the 
noble purpose of defending himself and his country from the 
aggression of the stranger. In his childhood he was taken by 
his father to Naples, where he was called by pressing business. 
At the Court of Alphonso, he became acquainted with the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


35 


celebrated Pontano, who was so struck with the genius and 
beautiful form of the boy, he conceived for him the deepest 
affection. He placed him in the Academy, which, although it 
had been founded by the Panormita family, is still known by 
the name of Pantaniana, and here he guarded his education 
with the utmost care. He received in return, as a reward for 
his generosity, all that affectionate reverence which can spring 
from admiration and gratitude. 

Love of country, and jealousy for the glory of Italy, once 
awakened by the eloquent words of his master, could never 
sleep again, and they grew so fervent they at last blended 
into a deep feverish passion. He challenged a French 
knight, his superior in years and strength, for calumniating the 
Italians, He fought him hand to hand, wounded him, and 
made him retract his insult in the presence of the King and 
his court. He left Naples, and after strange adventures, tried 
the wild fortunes of love — a hint of which has already been 
given by one of the French prisoners. 

But when Italy was subjected by Charles Vllth, and the 
French arms held every part of the peninsula in fetters or 
alarm, all his patriotism was kindled to a flame as he saw these 
invaders put the chain upon his country. His very soul chafed 
with fury, when he listened to the story of their insolence, 
as they marched on triumphantly through Lombardy, Tuscany, 
and other of the Italian States, and when he heard the report 
of the mdignant reply of Pier Capponi to the King, who had 
yielded to him, he went wild with joy, and lauded the brave 
Florentine to the stars. 

On the fall of the Royal house of Naples, he determined to 
enlist under the banners of Spain, to weaken at least the rising 
power of the invaders, and he felt too, that the Spanish pride 
was less intolerable than the conceited vanity of the French ; 
besides, an enemy who could approach the country only by 
sea, was less to be dreaded, and he believed that when the 
French had once been expelled from Italy, she could more 
easily establish a wise government of her own. 

As the light broke over the orient that morning, the stars one 
by one retreated far away into the distant heavens, and finally 


36 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


were seen no more. The sun had already illumined the loftiest 
peaks of the Gargano, tinging them with a rosy hue which fad- 
ed away into a soft purple down the shadowy sides of the 
mountains ; while the shore, which extended in the form of a 
semi-circle along their beise, till it reached the city of Barletta, 
unfolded with the advancing light a rich and diversified suc- 
cession of valleys and hills, which came down to bathe them- 
selves in the sea. Clumps of chestnuts on the heights gilded by 
the sun, growing thinner down the sides, were diversified by 
green fields or cultivated spots. Here a bold cliff showed its 
grey old rocks, made white by ages ; there the slope from a 
mountain brow revealed tinges of rose or yellow, according to 
the nature of the soil. The cerulean sea seemed perfectly still, 
save where it laved the feet of the rocks, and left its scolloped 
line of pure white foam. 

On an islet in the gulf near the land, with which it was 
joined by a long narrow bridge, a convent rose out from 
among palms and cypresses with its church, and a turreted 
tower fortified with battlements for protection against the 
attacks of Corsairs and Saracens of former ages. 

Ettore was gazing mtently in the direction of the old con- 
vent, knitting his eyebrows painfully, for the fog which at 
that hour covered all the low-lands, rendered the outline of 
the edifice almost mvisible. He was straining his ear to 
catch the strokes of the bell which came faintly over the 
waters, sounding the morning Ave-Maria. So deeply was 
he rapt in his own musmgs he heard not the voice of Inigo 
calling to him from the court-yard. Receivmg no reply, he 
ascended to the terrace. 

« After a day like yesterday, Ettore,” said he, stepping out 
on the terrace, “ I would not have believed thee up before 
the sim.” 

One who has ever had his heart filled with a single grand 
and stirring thought, can fancy how grateful Fieramosca 
must have felt for this unlooked-for hiterruption. He turned 
upon the intruder a glance which showed more of the work- 
ings of his soul than he would willingly have revealed, and 
Inigo half believed his visit unwelcome. But the soul of Ettore 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


37 


was too just and generous to accuse his friend for this involun- 
tary interruption. Without givmg him any direct reply, he ad- 
vanced, and taking his hand with perfect composure, smilingly 
inquired : 

“ What fair wind brings thee to me at this hour ?” 

“ The very best of wmds, for I bring thee news so glad 
thou’lt have to give me some generous reward. I have waited 
impatiently for daylight to break, and I have come to bring 
thee joyful intelligence. I have always envied thy valor, and 
to-day I shall be obliged to covet thy good fortune. Thou art 
happy, my Ettore ! Heaven has reserved for thee a deed of 
glory, thou would’st have purchased I am sure at any price. 
But it comes to thee without money and without trouble. 
Thou wert indeed born under a fortunate star.” 

Fieramosca conducted his friend into the house and made 
him sit down before him, while he waited to hear his good 
fortune announced. Inigo briefly related to him the occurrences 
of the previous evening, the part he had taken for the Italians, 
and the origin of the challenge. When he came to the rehear- 
sal of the msulting words of La Motte, and well he knew how 
to relate them, the bold Italian sprang to his feet, and strilting 
his clenched fist upon the table as his eyes flashed with fiery 
exaltation : 

“ Our misery has not yet reached such a point,” he cried out, 
“ that arms and blades camiot be found to hurl back into the 
teeth of this French robber what his evil genius suffered to 
pass them. God bless thee, Inigo, for the word, my brother,” 
he exclaimed, as he hugged him to his bosom. “ I shall be 
bound to thee in gratitude for ever for the vigilance thou hast 
shown for our honor, nor shall life or even death ever tear us 
asunder !” And the caresses of the one and the pledges of the 
other were boundless. 

When the fervor of this deep enthusiasm had partially sub- 
sided — “ Now,” said Fieramosca, “ is not the time for words 
but deeds.” He summoned a servant, and while he assisted 
him in dressing, the brave young knight went on naming the 
champions who were to be chosen for the combat, determin- 
ing the list should be as large as possible. 


38 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


“ We have a host of good men,” said he, “ but a crisis of no 
little importance has come, and we must choose the best; 
Braiicaleone is one. There’s not a French lance that can 
make him bend a finger with those tremendous shoulders — 
Capoccio and Giovenale — all three Komans ; and I tell thee the 
Horatii never wielded a stronger blade than they. Here are 
three ; let us go on. Fanfulla da Lodi, that hot-brained fellow 
dost thou know him ?” 

Inigo raised his head, and contracted his eyebrows a litth ^ 
compressing his lips, as though he wished to recall something. 

“ Oh ! most surely thou knowest him ! That Lombard, that 
lance -shiverer of Signor Fabrizio, * * * the one who the 
other day galloped round on the wall of the bastion to the gate 
of S. Bacolo. * * * « 

“ Oh yes ! yes !” answered Inigo, “ now I remember.” 

“ Well, that’s four. And while he has hands he knows how 
to use them. I shall be the fifth, and with the help of God 
will do my duty. Maruccio,” he cried out, calling to one of his 
attendants, “ don’t forget that yesterday the braces of my 
shield were broken — have them repaired immediately — grind 
the edges of my broadsword and dagger, and * * * what 

else was I going to tell thee — Ah ! My Spanish armor, is it all 
in order ?” The servant made sign that it was. 

Igino smiled at the haste of his friend, and said to him, 

“ Thou’lt have time enough to put them all in order, for the 
combat will not come off to-day nor to-morrow.” 

Fieramosca, who did not think of this, was glowing with 
excitement, nor would he have deferred the struggle a single 
hour had the decision rested with him. He paid little heed to 
the words of the Spaniard, and went on enumerating others to 
make up the requisite number, for five seemed to him too few. 
He continued, in a hurried voice : 

“ And shall we leave out Romanello da Forli ? Six : Ludovico 
Benavoli ? Seven : These men are known to thee, Inigo ; thou 
hast seen them at work.” 

“ Masuccio,Masuccio !” and the servant who had gone dowm, 
mounted the stair-way again. 

“ My battle horse Airone, given me by Signor Prospero, give 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


3P 


him hay and oats, as much as he wants, and before the heat 
of the day comes on, trot him off for an hour at the top of his 
speed, and see how he works in his armor.” 

These orders were given while he was dressing. The ser- 
vant laid his cloak on his shoulders, buckled on his sword, and 
handed him his cap with its blue plume. “ Now I am ready, 
Inigo,” said he. “ First of all we must confer with Signor Pros- 
pero, and afterwards address ourselves to Gonzales for the 
salva-condotta.^’ 

They now left the house, and as they walked along the 
streets, Fieramosca still went on naming the brave men, who 
might be relied on when the hour of trial should come. But 
he decided upon none of them rashly — he carefully weighed 
the rank, the power, the valor, the history of all, that none but 
tried men might be brought upon such a field. Upon Branca- 
leone he depended more firmly than upon any of the rest, for 
he knew him to be a lofty-minded, magnanimous and powerful 
man. He admired him for his serious countenance, and his 
freedom from the thoughtlessness of his companions ; and so 
deep was his love for him, he had many times been upon the 
point of revealing to him the adventures of his love forGinevra. 
But he had hitherto been restrained by a feeling of reserve, and 
the want of a favorable opportunity. His family and his ances- 
tors being Ghibellines, had always lived at Rome, and adhered 
to the party of Colonna. He was now the captain of a com- 
pany of lancers, under the banner of Signor Fabrizio, and 
closely did he watch over his charge as he had always done. 
He was of middle iieight, broad shoulders, and deep through 
the chest ; his words were few, and his whole time was devoted 
to his office. He was persevering to obstinacy in the execution 
of his purpose, and controlled only by the single desire of 
making the Colonna party victorious. This h^d become the 
absorbing passion of his life — rather than fail in its accom- 
plishment, or any other established purpose of his soul, he 
would have been cut to pieces a thousand times. 

Ettore and Inigo were obliged to pass his lodgings in going 
to those of the Coloniii. They found him already occupied, 
with his sword hanging loosely from his belt, in giving orders 


40 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


to his servants about his horses, with the least waste of breath 
possible. Fieramosca invited him to go with them to prepare 
to revenge the insult which he spoke of with the deepest in- 
dignation. Brancaleone listened to him with perfect com- 
posure, and not a change went over his countenance. He only 
remarked laconically, as he joined the two and walked on : 

“ The blind must-have proof; four thrusts in my style, and 
then we’ll talk about matters.” Nor was this self-confidence 
bravado, for the speaker had seen many a hard fought field, 
and had always come off with honor. 


CHAPTER IV. 


The insulting words of La Motte and the challenge that fol- 
lowed passed in the presence of more than twenty persons, 
and therefore could not remain secret. Indeed the report of 
the matter had already spread throughout the camp and the 
town, and when Inigo with his two Italian friends reached 
the house of Prospero Colonna, they found it formed the only 
subject of discourse. The flower of the Italian army had also 
gone to him as their leader to know what measures he intend- 
ed to take. All those named by Fieramosca, and many others, 
had already arrived, and in a short time their numbers amount- 
ed to flfty. The insult had been aggravated and deep, and not 
a young soldier there but showed by his maimer and his coun- 
tenance how deeply it was felt. Several of the Spaniards, 
who had been at the supper table the evening before, and 
given their Italian friends an accomit of what happened, had 
assembled at the same place, and mixing with the company, 
repeating the words of the Frenchman and the challenge of 
Inigo, with observations of their own thrown in, occasionally 
interspersed with suggestions and examples in point, had 
fanned into raging a flame which needed no fuel to make it 
uncontrollable. 

Some of the company assembled, were now standing by the 
gateway, others were dispersed through the court-yard, or 
gathered in the ground-hall where the Brothers Colonni were 
in the habit of giving audience to their followers when neces- 
sary, and dispatchmg the business of the company. The walls 
were hung with their armor worked richly in gold, with the 
finest designs and cuttings all burnished like flashing mirrors. 
The standard of the company was suspended from the ceiling 


42 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


with an embroidered column worked upon a red field, with 
Columna Jiecti nescio for their motto, which was also pamted 
upon the shields and armor, artfully arranged on all sides 
around the banner to produce the highest effect. Underneath 
the flag were two wooden horses covered with the complete 
armor of the battle-steeds of the Colonni, caparisoned in sad- 
dles and housings of fine crimson velvet, bearing the arms of 
their family on the saddle-cloths, and costly bridles all mount- 
ed in gold worked with a gorgeousness worthy of their proud 
owners. 

Six hooded falcons, bound by a chain of silver, were stand- 
ing upon a cross-bar suspended across the window, and near 
by could be seen every kind of implement for the chase, which 
formed the constant amusement of the knights and lords of 
those ages. 

After some moments. Signor Prospero Colonna appeared at 
the door, and every one greeted him with reverence. He 
advanced and saluted the company with an air of dignity, and 
seating himself in a large arm-chair of red skin which stood 
at the head of the table he used for writing, courteously 
beckoned each one to be seated. 

He was dressed in a mantle of black Arabesque sciamito with 
a large chain of gold hanging from the collar, from which' was 
suspended upon his breast a medal of the same precious 
metal, worked exquisitely with the chisel. He wore a small 
dagger at his belt of black hammered steel, and in this simple 
attire his imposing presence, his countenance which showed a 
mingling of the pallid and brunette tint, his high forehead which 
bespoke itself the seat of no common power or wisdom — all 
inspired that reverence which is offered more readily to the 
gifts of the soul, than to the favors of birth or fortune. His 
eyebrows were heavy, his beard was worn after the Spanish 
fashion, and his eye had that measured and studied movement 
which indicated him to be a great and a powerful Signore. 

The present occasion seemed to him, and really was, of the 
very last importance, not only because the glory of Italian arms 
was at stake, but the final result of the combat at this crisis, 
when the empire of Italy was vacillating between two con- 


THE CHALLENGE OF EARLETTA. 


43 


tending sovereigns, might prove of infinite consequence to him 
and the fortunes of his party and house. To come off victo- 
rious from such a struggle, would cover his soldiers and his 
standard with glory, and the French and Spanish captains 
would more sedulously guard against exciting his displeasure, 
and endeavor to court the favor of his friendship. 

The reader is not ignorant of the 'bloody scenes Rome had 
Avitnessed during the inveterate quarrels of the Colonni and the 
Orsini. Enraged by the violence and intrigues of Alexander 
VI. and Caesar Borgia, the Colonni had hoped either by the 
succor of foreigners or theit own valor, aided by some for- 
tunate occasion, to recover their power and possessions, and if 
the time was ever to come when they were to follow the 
beckonings of fortune and trust to her caprices, the time had 
certainly arrived. The sagacious Condottiere well knew 
the fiery and indomitable soul of Fieramosca ; the strength of 
his patriotism and thirst for glory. He had often seen the 
spirits of his companions inflamed by his words Avith a lofty 
ambition to show themselves Italians, and he felt hoAV much 
he could aid his cause at this crisis, by kindling still more 
deeply that divine ardor which renders men equal to great 
achievements. 

To him, then, the Condottiere addressed himself. He said he 
already kneAV something of the affair, but wished to listen to a 
more minute account of it that he might be prepared for imme- 
diate action. Ettore made the statement, artfully embellishing 
Inigo’s noble defence of the Italian nation, and when he had 
finished. Signor Prospero rose to his feet and spoke thus : 

‘^Illustrissimi Signori : If you VFere not what you are, and I had 
not learned by experience your invincible courage on many a 
field where we have fought together, I might feel it appropri- 
ate to such an occasion to recal to you the memory of our 
fathers, who exalted our country to such a pitch of glory she 
shone over the universe, — nor could the shades or the desola- 
tions of ten centuries utterly extinguish her light. How these 
invaders from beyond the Alps, Avho now come to drink the 
blood of Italy, and not content, add insult to injury, trembled 
in those days Avhen they listened to the name of Rome. I 


44 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


would tell you so intolerable and barefaced has their inso- 
lence become, that after having torn from her brow, by what 
arts God knows, the glorious crown, purchased by so much 
toil and blood, which Italy wore when she was queen of na- 
tions, they seem to have effected nothing so long as they see 
a sword left in a single hand, or a cuirass upon a single breast 
— they would rob us till 'we are reduced so low we can no 
longer fight, or die for the salvation of our honor. Let me then 
tell you m a single word, these gorged robbers who trample on 
our necks, must be rolled m the dust, and full well do I read in 
your countenances that my words were likely to be too late for 
your Italian blades. * * But then * * the office of Con- 

dottiere, ungrateful as it may be on such an occasion, compels 
me to restrain your valor, and tell you that you cannot all fight 
in this combat ; the glory of our revenge must be entrusted to 
a few swords. The magnificent Gonzales, obliged with an in- 
ferior force to maintain the right of the Catholic King, would 
not consent that the blood of his soldiers should be spilt in the 
quarrels of others. For ten men I hope to obtain a salva-con- 
dotta, and an open field. Without delay I go, and no sooner 
obtained, I return. In the meantime, each one of you write 
your name upon a sheet of paper. Gonzales will make the 
choice. But first you must swear to abide by all his orders.” 

This discourse was received with a murmur of approbation, 
and the whole company took the oath. The names were 
written and handed to Signor Prospero, who left his seat and 
advanced to the door, where two of his attendants awaited him 
with a caparisoned mule. He mounted, and accompanied only 
by these two persons, rode to the castle. 

In half an hour, which seemed a century to the impatient 
anxiety of the young knights, he returned, alighted and en- 
tered the ground-hall, and each one resumed the place he 
had occupied when he came in the first time. The silence 
and the expression of every eye, fixed as they were on the 
Roman Baron, bespoke impatience to know the choice, and 
the hope of each one to be accepted. 

“ The magnificent Gonzales,” said Signor Prospero, in clos- 
ing, as he took the paper from his bosom and laid it on the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


45 


table, “ was infinitely delighted with your bold proposal, and 
confident that victory will be the reward of such valor, he 
has conceded safe-conduct and open field for ten men-at- 
arms, and* I found it no easy matter to win it for so large a 
number. He yielded to your request only through the im- 
portance of the crisis.” 

After explaming the sheet which contained the names of the 
chosen knights, he read the following : “ Ettore Fieramosca.” 
Hearing his name announced first upon the list, he seized with 
joy the arm of Brancaleone, who sat by his side, while the eyes 
of all were bent upon him in a manner which showed that no 
one felt he could challenge his title to the first post. 

“ Ramanello da Forli “ Ettore Giovenale, Romano “ Marco 
Carellario, Napoletano “ Guglielmo Albimonti, Siciliano 
“ Miale da Troja “ Riccio da Parma “ Francesco Salamone, 
Siciliano “ Brancaleone, Romano “ Fanfulla da Lodi.” 

A stranger, had he been present, without knowing a person 
there, could easily have distinguished by the joy which reigned 
on their countenances those whom fortune had destined to this 
noble enterprise. The face of Fieramosca, always pale, was 
now flushed with a beautiful vermilion; and in addressing 
his companions, the chestnut moustache which covered his lip 
trembled, so deep was the passion which filled his soul. His 
dream of ambition was at last to be turned into substantial glory. 
“ At last,” his heart told him, “ the time has come once at 
least, when Italian blood can flow for a better purpose than to 
waste itself for ever in a hopeless defence against foreign invad- 
ers.” Had some one then told him, thy brave men shall con- 
quer, but thou shalt die in the field, he would have felt a 
thousand times blessed ; but there was the hope, and almost 
the certainty of a victory, and life to enjoy it, and then he 
thought how full of glory would be his return from the field of 
battle — of banquets and exulting joy; and (for how rarely we 
see all the truth) he painted in his fancy the praises and the 
everlasting honor, that would cover Italy and his own bright 
name, and how proudly those he loved would bear themselves 
when his name was sounded. At this point, a thought which 
rose up from the depths of his heart, passed like a cloud over 


46 


THE CHALLENGE OF EARLETTA. 


his spirit, and for a single moment obscured the joy that beamed 
just before from his countenance — perhaps sorrows gone by 
pierced his heart with the sharp thorn of sad remembrance — 
but it lasted only a moment. Could he think of anything but 
the approaching combat ? 

Prospero Colonna had been chosen by Gonzales master of 
the field, which threw upon him the obligation of sending the 
written challenge, of mounting his men, of seeing they lacked 
nothing to insure the victory, and of having an eye upon the 
combatants of both parties, that the battle should be fair and 
just. 

First of all, the day and the field of conflict were decided. 
It was now the first of the month. The battle was to take 
place after the middle, which would give ample time for prepa- 
ration. When these matters were arranged. Signor Prospero 
turned to the chosen combatants and said : 

“ Our honor. Cavaliers, is suspended upon the edge of your 
swords, and I know not where it could more safely rest. But 
for this reason it is best you swear, that from this day till the 
day of battle, you will enter upon no other engagement, thatyou 
may be in no danger of wounds or impediments, which might 
keep you that day from your saddles ; for well you know if this 
should happen, whatever might be the cause, our party would 
suffer ?” ^ 

This pledge seemed more than reasonable to all, and there 
was not one, who did not accept these conditions with his 
oath. 

In the meantime, the greater portion, seeing with regret they 
had nothing more to do in that place, had retired in confusion 
complaining of their lot. None but the ten now remained. 
Even they, when the paper was consigned to Fieramosca, 
abandoned the hall; and joining his friend Brancaleone, he 
returned to his house to prepare immediately to bear the chal- 
lenge to the French camp . 

They both armed themselves hastily in a coat of mail with 
sleeves and cap of steel, and, sending a trumpeter before, them, 
set out for the gate of S. Bacolo, over against which the enemy 
lay. The drawbridge was lowered and they came out into a 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAllLETTA. 


47 


Borgo, which had been abandoned during these disturbances, 
by its inhabitants, and half destroyed and burned by the licen- 
tious soldiery of those times. They were obliged to pass 
through several gardens before they got out upon the high 
road again, and they had a ride of at least an hour before they 
could reach the camp. In passing this deserted Borgo, Ettore 
met several poor women half covered with rags, draggmg be- 
hind them by the hand or holding around their necks, then- 
famishing children, wandering through the abandoned dwell- 
ings to see if by some chance some morsel had escaped the 
bloated avarice of the soldiers. The heart of the young man 
bled at the spectacle, and being unable to render them help, or 
to bear the sight, he put spurs to his horse and soon left the 
Borgo far behind him. 

The wild joy so new to him that had been wakened in his 
heart by the coming battle, was apparently converted by this 
trivial casualty into his accustomed gloom, and he felt a deeper 
pity than ever for the woes of Italy, and a bitterer hatred 
against the French who had caused them. He could not con- 
ceal from Brancaleone as they rode along his commiseration 
excited by the sad spectacles he had just witnessed. Branca- 
leone was at bottom a good and benevolent man, in spite of the 
roughness of his bearing, acquired by constant familiarity with 
danger and blood, and the two knights mingled their sympa- 
thies together. Reading his companion’s thoughts Fieramosca 
turned his head round and exclaimed : 

“ These are the beautiful fruits we reap from the presence 
of these Frenchmen ; this the prosperity they bring us ! * * 
But if I can only live to see that accursed race driven back 
over the Alps ! * * * And * * I will say it, let us try to get rid 
too of these Spaniards.” But he remembered he was fightmg 
under their banners ; he cut short his words and finished with 
a sigh. 

Brancaleone cared more for the Colonna party than the good 
of his ovm country, and he could not enter fully into this feel- 
ing of his friend ; but he got over the embarrassment as well as 
he could, and replied in his peculiar manner — 

“ If this army could once be routed, it would not be long. 


48 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


perhaps, before we should taste the wine of Signore Virginio 
Orsino, and the cellars of the castle of Bracciano would once 
have a chance to see how the faces of Christians are made. 
Palestrina, Marina and Valmontona would no longer see the 
smoke of the camp of the villains, nor be scared at every mo- 
ment by that cursed cry, Orso ! Orso ! but * * * ” 

Ettore saw by this reply, that although Brancaleone united 
with him in his desires, he was yet very far from being swayed 
by the same motives, and he made no further observation. 
They both rode on some distance without breaking the silence, 
while the herald preceded them not more than a bowshot 
ahead. 

The reader will not have forgotten the hints thrown out by 
the French prisoner, about the unfortunate love of Fieramosca. 
His companions, who heard the matter then spoken of for the 
first time, regretted his misfortune, for they all loved him ; and 
in a company of young men it is not easily forgotten, when 
any one fails to contribute his share to the common stock of 
cheerfulness and humor. During the morning, while the chal- 
lenge was the theme of excitement at the house of Signor 
Prospero, his adventures were discussed, and they reached the 
ears of Brancaleone. He had little curiosity to inquire into other 
people’s affairs, but after riding on some distance in silence, 
and seeing his companion so oppressed by melancholy, he di- 
vined the cause of his sadness, and determined to overcome 
his own natural disposition and draw from him a confession of 
his love. He prepared the approach to his heart by words of 
sympathy and affection, and at last requested him to narrate 
the story of the disappointment which had filled his soul with 
such gloom. Brancaleone knew well how to accomplish his 
purpose. Fieramosca knew, too, he could trust him with his 
secret, and the circumstances by which he was surrounded 
made it impossible for him to be silent ; for a heart agitated by 
strong passion easily gives vent to its emotions. Lifting his 
eyes upon his companion, he said — 

“ Brancaleone, thou asketh me to tell thee what I have never 
yet told to a living creature, nor would I reveal it to thee (and 
think not strange of this) did I not remember that I may die in 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


49 


the coming conflict, * * and then > ♦ * Who would 
then be left to * * * ? Yes, yes, thou art my true friend — thou 

art full of honor, and I must tell thee all. But thou must listen 
to my tale till it’s done, for I camiot make thee understand in 
few words my strange and chequered fortune.” 

Brancaleone showed by the expression of his countenance 
his deep interest to hear his story, and Fieramosca suppressed 
a deep sigh and began : — 

“ When the first rumors were spread, that the most Christian 
king was about to proclaim war, and make a descent upon the 
kingdom of Naples, I was, as thou knowest, in my sixteenth 
year in the service of the Moor. I demanded my discharge, 
for I felt I ought to risk my life in the defence of the royal 
house of Rohan, which had so long governed us. I went to 
Capua — our company was formed and equipped for the field, 
I was placed under the command of Count Bosio di Monreale, 
who iiad the control of the enterprise, and stationed for the 
defence of the city. Our munitions were all prepared, and 
having for the time nothing else to do, we gave ourselves up to 
amusement. Our evenings we passed in parties of pleasure, 
at the house of the Count, who was a friend of my father, and 
treated me like a son. Before I served under the Duke of 
Milan, I had often met him by accident. There I first knew his 
youthful daughter, and before we were aware of it, we loved 
each other better than all the world. The day I set out for 
Lombardy was a day of tears, and our parting was inconceiva- 
bly painful. I recall it all vividly. I rode by under her win- 
dows on the most beautiful Spanish horse I have ever seen, 
and Gin evra waved her adieu to me as I passed by ; and unseen 
by her father or any one of the cavalcade, for it was early 
dawn, she threw down to me an azure scarf, which I have 
kept to this day. 

“ But all this is scarcely worth relating. During the year of 
my absence the fervor of ray first love seemed chilled. When 
I returned and saw Ginevra again, her form had assumed fairer 
proportions, and she had grown into the most beautiful maiden 
in all the realm of Naples. She was adorned with superior 
learning, and sang with the lute so sweetly, one could not hear 
3 


50 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


another after listening to her. Against all these charms I could 
offer no resistance, and I plunged again into a vortex of love 
a hundred times more wild and deep than before. She had 
not forgotten former years, and I had returned with honor and 
fame won by my arms : and although she was so pure she 
tried to conceal her passion, I well knew she loved to hear me 
tell her tales about Lombardy, of the wars I had been in, and 
the courts and customs of that country. If she loved to listen 
to me, I loved better to entertain her. Our intimacy at last be- 
came such, we could live only in each other’s presence. 

“ I knew how many misfortunes might attend on our love, 
and I began to foresee the sorrows we were preparing for each 
other. Just then the war broke out, and wretched is the man 
who finds himself in such circumstances, entangled in the 
snares of love. I had hitherto tried to be' always with her, but 
now when I began to think what I should do, knowing our 
love was too deep ever to be forgotten, I summoned the reso- 
lution to conceal my affection and tear her from my heart. 
This continued for some time. But the struggle, instead of 
quenching my love, only inflamed it. I was resolute to over- 
come my feelings and put forth all my power of self-control, 
but the tide beat against me so strong it nearly drove me mad. 
The color left my cheeks ; when I lay down I was exhausted, 
but I could not sleep. Her image was a living thing, which 1 
could not for a single moment blot from my imagination, and 
the slow night was worn away with hot tears which wet my 
pillow, and which I could not dry. I lived only to struggle and 
weep. 

“ After dragging away several weeks in this ineffectual strug- 
gle, I found I had reached a point where I must alter my course. 
Thou wilt already have fancied too the ‘course I took. One 
evening at sunset I found her alone in her garden, and lu-ged 
on by destiny, I confessed to her my quenchless love. She 
blushed, but made me no reply, and fled, leaving me more 
wetched and prostrate than ever. From that hour she seemed 
to seek to avoid me, and seldom addressed me a word when 
there were others present. I now became desperate, and being 
unable any longer to support the love that consumed me, I 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


51 


determined to look only to God, and seek death in the field of 
battle. The company of the Duke di S. Nicandro marched 
through the city on their way to Rome to join the Duke of 
Calabria, and I prepared to accompany them. I had not made 
known my purpose to her. But one day I determined to test 
her heart ; she made no reply to me, and I was forced to 
believe that the love I had believed she cherished for me, was 
only a dream of my fancy. The company of the Duke lodged 
that night in Capua, and were to proceed on their march next 
morning. I was resolute in my purpose, and prepared to be in 
my saddle at daybreak. I went to sleep as usual in the house 
of Ginevra’s father; we three were alone, and we played 
together through the evening. I took an opportunity of telling 
him I had fixed my departure for the following morning; find- 
ing my idle life a burden on my hands, I was determined to 
seek the field, and I asked his permission to take my leave. 
The Count applauded my spirit, and I, who had yet by no 
means abandoned all hope, cast a glance upon Ginevra to read 
her countenance. Imagine my feelings when I saw the sudden 
change that passed over her face, and her eyes fill with tears. 
That single glance told too much. My purpose for the instant 
was shaken, but I knew it was too late to retreat with honor, 
and just at the moment I felt myself the happiest man in the 
world, 1 was forced to execute my unlucky purpose. This 
was the point where my evil fortune began. Would to God 
1 had been struck dead when I put my foot in the stirrups of 
my saddle ! It would have saved her and myself from a world 
of wretchedness. 

“ I went on to Rome cursing my fate. We reached the city 
just as King Charles was entering one gate, and our party were 
being forced out of the other. There was a light engagement, 
and I joined in the skirmish against a company of Swiss. I was 
left for dead with two gashes in my head, and for a long time I 
did not recover. These wounds I received near Velleti. T was 
taken into the city to be cured, where I remained two months 
without knowing anything more of Ginevra, or of her father. I 
only heard hour after hour, the sad news from the realm of 


52 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Naples, which was always so exaggerated by the people ol the 
house, I could not depend upon anything I heard. 

“ At last I so far recovered my strength as’ to be able to leave 
the scene of my suffering, and one morning I mounted my horse 
and rode into Rome. The city was filled with confusion. 
Pope Alexander, who, in the passage of the king, had treated 
him with little courtesy, seeing the hopeless prospects of the 
Neapolitan arms, and that already a confederacy was talked 
about between the Moors and the Venetians, had begun 
to favor the cause of the French. He was regarded with the 
deepest suspicion, and having no alternative, fortified himself 
in the castle within the walls of Rome. I alighted in the town, 
and went immediately to pay my reverence to Monsignor 
Capece, who treated me with the utmost kindness, and insisted 
upon my taking lodgings in his own house. 

“ In the meantime the excitement in Rome was continually 
increasing ; the vanguard of the army, composed of Swiss, being 
daily expected, apprehension manifested itself on all sides, and 
no one thought of anything but his own security. 

“ The army at last appeared before the gates of the city, but 
the Pontifl?’ had already fled with Valentino to Orvieto. A por- 
tion of the French soldiery took up their quarters in the city, 
and the rest in the Campagna. But they conducted themselves 
with so much moderation, confidence was once more restored 
among the citizens. After some days the King advanced 
towards Tuscany, but the leaders of the army were continu- 
ally passing through Rome to reach the scene of action, which 
still gave it a disturbed appearance. But quiet was at last so 
perfectly restored, every one again resumed his occupations as 
usual. I had felt the deepest anxiety for Ginevra, and as soon 
as I could leave with honor the house of Monsignor Capece, I 
set out for Capua to learn the fate of her from whom I had 
received no tidings since the day we separated. 

“ I began my journey early in the morning with a design of 
riding that day as far as Citerna. I passed out from Strada 
Julia, where the liouse of Monsignor stood, and turned into the 
Piazza Farnese. In going out of the city by the gate of S. 
Giovanni, under the coliseum, I met a troop of French horse- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


53 


men with their baggage, and as they passed by, I observed a 
litter upon which one of their captains was borne, and from 
the bandages around his temples it was evident he had been 
wounded in the head. Reining in my horse to look at the 
wounded man, I was surprised by a sharp scream, and turning 
round I saw Ginevra on horseback, following on with the 
company. It was her, but, oh God ! how changed. It was a 
miracle I did not fall to the ground. My heart throbbed under 
its mail. But suspecting what might have taken place I pre- 
tended to continue my journey, but afterwards turned my 
horse to keep sight of the cavalcade and at least to follow them 
to their lodgings. 

“ Thou mayest well imagine I was not bold enough to pre- 
sent myself again before Monsignore, who believed me many 
miles on my journey, much less before Ginevra, fearing if I 
heard her speak, I should listen to what I would never have 
suffered — I chose therefore to await the solution of the mystery 
I could not penetrate. Curbing in the reins of my horse, who 
was making his way back to the stables of Monsignore, I 
passed through Banchi alia Chiavica, and stopped at the shop 
of one Franciotto della Barca, so called, his business being to 
take goods from Ostia to the Ripa Grande. He was one of my 
best friends, and riding up to the door, I dismounted and took 
him aside, and told him for certain reasons I had left the house 
of Monsignore, and it was necessary for me to keep myself 
secluded. He offered me his house in the Borgo, and con- 
ducted me to it immediately. I went so far as to tell him that 
I had seen a young lady whose family I knew, in the company 
of several Frenchmen, and wished to know how she had been 
brought to the city, to render her any aid in my power. Indi- 
cating to him the place where she had dismounted, I requested 
liim to see some of the servants, and enable me ta have an in- 
terview with her, which would further my design. He was 
a man of subtle genius, and found it very easy to effect this. 
About half an hour before midnight he came and took me to a 
hotel, where we found one of his young men who had inveigled 
one of the attendants of the French Baron, and made him 


54 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


drunk, and afterwards tell the whole story. We arrived just 
in time. 

“ A few questions of Franciotto drew from the fellow what I 
never would have wished to know, about the fate of Giiievra, 
He told us that when they reached Capua, the garrison oppos- 
ed their entrance with the utmost firmness, and they forced 
the gates, and sacked almost the whole town ; that his master , 
Claudia Grajano d’Asti, with a body of armed men, entered the 
house of the Count of Monreale, who had been carried home 
wounded in the assault. He mounted to the chamber where 
the Count was lying, and the daughter flung herself on her 
knees, and implored protection for herself and fathet. Grajano 
was untouched by the appeal, and the Count raised himself 
upon his elbow and supported himself in bed as well as he 
could, and said ; ‘ All I have in the world is yours, and my 
daughter shall be your wife, but for God’s sake preserve her 
honor from the ruffianism of your soldiers.’ Despairing of the 
life of her father, or even her own, Ginevra could not resist. 
Two days after the Count died. 

“ I bit my hands in agony ! Oh ! thought I, had I been there, 
she would never have fallen into the liands of this wretch. 
But now it was too late. I hurried away from the place, and 
wandered all night round the streets like a madman, ready to 
seek my own destruction. But the hand of God withheld me 
from this crime. The agony, the torturing despair that wrung 
my inmost heart ! I could not describe a thousandth part of 
what I suffered. My breast heaved till I thought I should 
suffocate. I could no longer support a life that seemed blighted 
with the curse of heaven, and I formed the wildest projects, 
and the maddest resolutions, m my whirling brain. At one 
moment I swore I would murder the husband — the next I de- 
termined to court some strange death for myself, to prove to 
Ginevra I loved her still, and there was a gleam of pleasure in 
the thought of the grief she would have poured over my tomb. 
I balanced between these desperate resolutions, till my brain 
became wild. In this state I remained for several days, till at 
last a night came when I determmed to try my fortune. 
Wrapped in a cloak that completely covered my form, and a 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


65 


hood which came over my head, I went to her aoor and 
knocked. A person appeared at the window and asked what 
I wanted. ‘ Say to Madonna,’ I replied, ‘ that one who comes 
from Naples would speak with her to bring her news of her 
friends.’ I was admitted and shown into a small parlor on 
the first floor, faintly lighted by a lamp. At one instant I 
seemed to be standing before the very gates of paradise — the 
next, before the gates of hell itself, so terrible was the contrast 
from one moment to another. I felt my knees give way under 
me, and fell half fainting into a chair. In a few moments, 
which seemed to me a thousand years, I heard the rustling of 
the feet and dress of Ginevra on the stairs. I nearly lost my con- 
sciousness. She entered, and standing half concealed, gazed 
upon me, and canst thou believe it, I could neither speak, move, 
nor utter a loud noise. The moment she knew who I was, 
she gave a shriek, and would have fallen fainting to the 
ground, had I not caught her in my arms. I unlaced her dress, 
and tried to restore her, knowing how dreadful was the crisis ; 
and nerved up by fear of discovery, seized a flower vase of 
water standing in the room, and bathed her forehead. But the 
scalding tears that fell from my eyes and flooded her face were 
more powerful, and they recalled her to life I could only 
take her hand and press it upon my lips, with a passion so 
wild I thought my soul would escape from my body in a 
paroxysm of joy. This lasted a few moments. At last, all 
trembling she withdrew her hand, and in a voice scarcely audi- 
ble, told me, ‘ Ettore, if thou only but knew my misery.’ * I 
know it all, alas ! too much,’ I replied, ‘ and I ask no more, I 
wish no more, only to die near thee, and sometimes to see thee 
while I live ! ’ 

“ I heard a noise above, and a chill struck through my bones : 
for I supposed we should be discovered, which would only 
double her misery. I took ray leave more by acts than v/ords, 
prayed her to let me go, and fled from the house less afiiicted 
and disconsolate than before. 

“ In the mean time the wounds of the husband did not heal, 
and many Frenchmen, gentlemen and prelates, crowded to 
visit him. Although the angel-face of Ginevra showed the 


56 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


canker-worm was at her heart, it bore the same unearthly 
beauty, still saddened, it’s true, by a languid paleness : but no 
one could gaze on her without feeling her loveliness. Her 
youth, her charms, her divine countenance, excited every day 
more and more the admiration of those who frequented her 
house, and the fame of such enchanting beauty, borne by 
every tongue, at last reached the ears of Valentino.* Rome 
was then filled with the reports of his terrific deeds. 

“ Not a month before, the Duke of Candia, his brother, was 
assassinated in the streets by night, and^ suspicion had 
lighted on him. He soon laid aside the purple. Universal in- 
dignation was excited against him, and he was charged with 
every crime. I had terribly feared, even before this, that Gi- 
nevra would become the object of his vile ambition ; and I now 
heard, to my sorrow, more than one scandal breathed against 
her name ; but out of regard to her, I was obliged to listen to 
them, and consume the wrath within me which I could not 
vent without betraying my situation. 

“In the mean time, however, by various pretexts, I was 
enabled to visit the house ; and I saw her husband. Although 
the sight of him gave me indescribable pain, I bore it wil- 
lingly, and would have suffered anything in the world some- 
times to see her. But, from our first meeting, no word of love 
passed between us — it would have been useless, for well I 
knew the workings of her heart. 

“ This Grajano d’Asti was a common man, neither handsome 
nor ugly, neither good nor bad. He was, however, a good 
soldier, but would ju.st as soon have fought for the Grand Turk 
as anybody else, if he had been better paid by him. Ginevra 
brought to him an' ample fortune, and he loved her as he loved 
the estate for its rent-roll, and nothing more. 

“ Let us pass over several weeks. Every evening I could 
see Ginevra, for the husband had no suspicion of me. He was 
suffering continually from his wound which healed slowly, 
and being a man who cared little and knew less about love, I 
was able to render my visits more frequent. 

* The infamous Caesar Borgia, who hung like an evil star over the 
path of Ettore Fieramosca. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


57 


“Valentino, in the mean time, was raising troops to march 
into Romagna, and he made capital of Grajano d’Asti, who 
had now so far recovered as to be able to mount his horse. 
Borgia knew how to mould him to his wishes, and he won 
him over almost without an effort. He bound himself to raise 
twenty-five lances, and the husband of Ginevra flattered himself 
he had obtained very advantageous terms. 

“ The Duke came one evening to the house of Grajano, to 
execute their stipulations, and a small supper party was made 
on the occasion, which was attended by several French 
bishops and idle knights, who had come to offer him their 
services, for at that period he received all who presented 
themselves. 

“ I was also half determined to give in my name too, and 
follow the fortunes of Ginevra and Grajano, but although T 
cannot tell why, I was prevented from bemg present at the 
supper that evening. I wandered about the most deserted 
parts of Rome, that night, tormented by a thousand suspicions, 
nor could I shake off from my fancy the strangest reflections. 
For several days Ginevra had seemed to me more wretched, 
and I fancied I saw on her brow an indication of some fatal 
secret she studied to keep buried in her own heart. I passed 
that night, and God only knows with what agony ; and now 
listen and see if the heart does not sometimes speak the 
truth ! 

“ The next day at sunset I visited her. When I was entering 
the house, I heard an unusual confusion, and a monk d’Araceli 
Cot Bambino, bearing a lighted taper, was just coming out. I 
sprang into the house, with a cold sweat streaming from my 
body, and a servant told me Ginevra was dying!! 

“ After supper, the evening before, she had been seized by 
a fainting fit, but no one seemed to be alarmed. She was put 
in bed — hot cloths were applied, and she remained quiet 
through the night. Already late in the morning, she had 
showed no symptom of returning to life. A certain Jacopo 
da Montebuono, who had dabbled in medicine, was called in, 
and he found her body almost cold. The wretch, instead of 
resorting at once to the most powerful restoratives, left her, 
3 * 


58 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


after giving an order she should not be disturbed. He returned 
late, and feigning alarm, cried out she was dying, and ordered 
a priest to be sent for in haste. Without affording her any 
relief or attempting to subdue this mysterious malady, a little 
after the Ave-Maria sounded, the family heard it announced 
from the lips of the physician, that she was dead ! ” 

At this moment the French tents appeared, and Ettore was 
obliged to interrupt the current of his story. The herald 
sounded the trumpet ahead to announce the arrival of a mes- 
senger, and a mounted soldier came out of the gate to demand 
the object of his coming. 

When the object of their mission had been explained the offi- 
cer of the guard at the station was called, and seeing the com- 
munication was a letter written by Gonzales to the Duke di 
Nemours, Captain of the French army, he requested Brancaleone 
and Fieramosca to wait till the letter had been sent to the 
Duke, and permission obtained for them to enter the camp. 

He offered them in the meantime a tent which formed the 
lodging of the guard of the gate, but the two friends being 
told the station of the captain was at a great distance, decided 
to wait where they were till the return of the messenger. 

Near by there was a clump of oaks, thickly foliaged, whose 
shade offered them a fine retreat from the heat of the mid-day 
sun. The two knights rode up and tied their horses to the 
trees, and throwing aside their helmets, seated themselves 
side by side against the old trunk. A fresh breeze blew on 
them from the’ sea, and tfie pne resumed his story with recov- 
ered spirits, and the other listened with still deeper interest. 


CHAPTER V. 


Fieramosca resumed his narration as follows : 

“ Ginevra lost, there was an end of the world to me. 1 left 
the house, and although I felt that my eyes were bursting from 
my head, they did not shed a single tear. Where I went or 
what I did for the first few moments I could not tell, were it 
not for the circumstances which occurred afterwards. I walk- 
ed about like an idiot, or as it sometimes happens as thou 
knowest when the cleaving-stroke of a double-handed iron 
mace falls upon one’s helmet, and makes the ears deaf for a 
short time, and everything reel before the eyes. Without 
knowing what had happened T passed the bridge (the house 
of Ginevra was near the Tower of Nona), and ascending the 
Borgo, reached the piazza of S. Pietro. 

“ My generous Franciotto knew something of my misfor- 
tunes, and went out in search of me. He found me (how I 
got there I cant say) lying at the base of a column. I felt two 
arms around me which lifted me up, and set me against the 
pillar. I looked around and saw him at my side. He spake 
soothingly to me, and I gradually came back to myself. He 
helped me to my feet, and with difficulty I returned to ,the 
house. He undressed me, and, putting me to bed, he sat by my 
side without annoying me with any attempt at consolation 
which would have been worse than idle. “ ■ 

“ In this manner we passed the night without speaking. A 
raging fever came over me, which sometimes mounted to my 
brain, and my wild fancy painted an enormous figure loaded 
with armor standing on my breast till I became suffocated. 

“ At last tears came to my relief. The hour of six sounded 
from the castle, and daylight came through the openings of 


60 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


the window. My sword and armor were suspended from the 
wall over my head, and raising my eyes I caught a sight of the 
blue scarf given to me many years before by Ginevra. That 
sight, swift as an arrow on the wing, opened the flood-gates of 
my tears, which began to flow in streams. This removed the 
load from my brain, and saved my life. After weeping unre- 
strained and unceasingly for a whole hour, I felt this dreadful 
load was gone, and I could listen and converse ; and with the 
help of my good Franciotto, I got through the day so well that 
at evening I left my bed* As I gradually recovered my reason, 
1 began to think how I should act under so tremendous a 
calamity. It seemed to me I never could survive the shock, 
and instead of dying by inches, to escape the horrors of a 
lingering torture I resolved to die then, and take my flight after 
that glorified soul. When I had fixed my purpose, I felt that I 
had made a great gain, and once more I was quiet. 

“ Franciotto, who had not left me from the evening before, 
went out for a moment to visit his shop, promising to return 
immediately. I laid my hand upon this very dagger that now 
hangs from my side, resolute to execute my purpose at the 
moment ; but remembering that very night Ginevra was to be 
laid in her tomb, I determined to see her face once more and 
die by her side. Half dressed as I was, 1 buckled on my 
sword, and taking with me the last thing I valued on earth, my 
blue scarf, left the house. 

“I crossed the bridge, and entered the cemetery. The 
• monks Della Regola soon appeared, walking two by two, 
accompanied by a train of ecclesiastics chanting the Miserere^ 
though Strada Julia, and over Ponte Sisto, bearing the bier 
covered with a large pall of black velvet. 

“ If I must tell thee all, this sight did not agitate me for a 
single moment, for I thought if we had been severed in life at 
least in death we would be united. We were both journeying 
to the same far off land, and the same tomb would give us 
repose together. I followed with a triumphant but gloomy joy, 
feeling myself already transported beyond the barriers of the 
eternal world, ready to go wherever impulse led me. Ponte 
Sisto and Tresterere passed, we entered S. Cecilia. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


61 


“ The bier was placed in the sacristy where slept the ashes 
of the son of S. Francesca Romana, and J stood on the side of 
the church leaning against the wall while the monks chanted 
the last requiem. I heard the Requiescat in pace. 

‘^.They all left the church in silence, and I remained alone 
in the darkness, for there was no light but the lamps of the 
Virgin. I heard from a distance the murmur, and the returning, 
steps of those who had gone out from the temple. At this 
moment the night hour sounded, and the sacristan, who was 
making his rounds through the church, rattling his mass of 
keys, preparing to close the doors, passed by me. He saw me 
and said, ‘ I close the doors now.’ ‘ I shall remain,’ I 
answered. He looked fixedly on me as though he knew who 
I was, and said : — 

“ ‘ Art thou one of the Duke’s men ? Thou art rather too 
bold ; but the door will be left ajar and stay if thou wilt, I 
shall go about my business.’ Without saying another word he 
went on. 

“ I paid little heed to him, but his words stirred me, and I 
knew not whether he or I dreamed. What Duke ? What door 
left ajar ? What did the wretch mean ? thought I to myself. 

“ But a thousand miles from the truth, and incapable of 
reasoning at such a time, T immediately returned to my first 
resolution, and after a few moments, everything being still as 
the grave, I approached the bier with the sweat of death on 
me. 

“ Removing the pall which covered it, and drawing my dagger, 
which was strong and sharp, I began to force open the coffin, 
and with no other instrument, I performed the task with dif- 
ficulty, but I at last succeeded. 

“ That beautiful form was wrapped around with its pure 
white winding sheets, and before I left the world I wished to 
see once more that angel face. I bent upon my knees and 
removed the veils which hid from me the only sight dear 
to me on earth: The last was raised, and Ginevra’s counte- 
nance was there, pure and calm as a waxen statue. All trem- 
bling, I pressed my brow against her’s, and I could in my 
delirium but kiss her lips. They stirred with a light tremor ! I 


62 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


thought I should fall dead ! Oh ! Almighty God ! I cried, can thy 
mercy go so far ? I pressed my hand to her pulses ! The beat- 
ing of her heart took away my breath ! The pulses throbbed ! 
Ginevra was alive ! ! 

“ But think how 1 felt now, all alone. If she awakes, s^id 
I, and finds herself in this place, the frightful horror will be 
enough to kill her. I knew not what to do, and my brain 
whirled. I lifted my hands to the Virgin, and prayed— ‘ Oh ' 
true mother of God ; let me save her, and I swear by thy Divine 
Son, I will consecrate every thought of my soul to thee.’ And 
in my heart, I made a solemn vow never to do an act that 
could tempt her purity, and to annihilate all vestige of the 
thought of murdering her husband, which till now had been a 
settled purpose of my soul. And Divine aid could not be 
implored so deeply from the heart without an answer to 
prayer. 

My faithful Franciotto, who had left his house, as I told 
thee, had seen me as he was returning, going towards the 
bridge, and half divining the truth, and fearing, as he after- 
wards told me, I should be driven to some desperate purpose, 
had followed on in my steps. But he wisely refrained from 
speaking to me, and tried to disturb me as little as possible at 
this dreadful period, well knowing mine was an exigency in 
which council would avail nothing, and that he could serve 
me only by help in the moment of necessity. He had entered 
the church with the funeral train, and remained hid in a distant 
corner, and has often since told me he saw me take out my 
dagger, and was on the point of springing upon me, and stood 
ready for the leap ; but seeing I took the instrument only to 
open the coffin, he kept still, and only at this moment, when 
he knew I needed help, did he discover himself. I heard him 
approach just as I finished my prayer, and as I turned, he stood 
by my side. On the ground I embraced his knees as one who 
gave me two lives at once. I greeted him as an angel from 
heaven. I rose up, and began to think how ‘we could con- 
veniently and securely transport her away. At last we took 
the velvet pall spread over the bier, and turning it inside out 
that if she revived she might not become conscious of the 


THE CHALLENGE OF LARLETTA. 


63 


iHournful covering under which she lay, and arranging the 
winding sheets to make the softest bed possible, we carefully 
raised her from the coffin and gently placed her in the 
envelope. 

“ Poor Ginevra had not yet opened her eyes, but suppressed 
sighs had escaped from her breast. In looking through the 
closers, Franciotto had luckily found the flagons used for the 
Mass, and he immediately placed the small spout of one of 
them to her lips, and poured down only a small quantity to 
revive her but partially, for we did not wish her to recover 
entirely her consciousness in that place. And now with the 
utmost care, Franciotto at the feet, and I at the head, took hold 
of the corners of the pall, and lifted it from the ground, and 
thanks to the holy Virgin, bore it safely from the church. We 
took the street of S. Michele, and came to the Ripa, which was 
surrounded with boats. One of them was Franciotto’s, and hav- 
ing no better or safer resource in this trying crisis, we laid 
Ginevra in it, and hastily preparing a bed under cover, aided 
by two or three men who guarded the boat, I placed myself by 
her side, and Franciotto ran for a barber, a friend of his, a brave 
and a faithful man, to come to our help and bleed her if neces- 
sary. 

“ He was obliged to ptiss by the church of S. Cecilia again. 
Here he saw in passing, a company of armed men gathered 
around the door, which at first he supposed to be a company 
of policemen. He cautiously approached them under the 
wall so near, he plainly discovered they were far from being 
the men he had supposed. They were about thirty soldiers 
armed with pikes and broad-swords. On one side >vas an 
empty litter borne by two men, and he who appeared to be 
their guide stood looking into the church, wrapped in his 
mantle, changing his attitude often, resting first on one foot 
and then on the other, unable to curb his impatience. In a few 
moments two servants came out of the church and addressed 
to him these words : — ‘ Ebccellency, the coffin is uncovered and 
empty. ’ 

Such was the power of these words, the man to whom 
they were addressed hurled a blow with the lantern he held 


64 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


under his cloak, against the head of the speaker, and brought 
him reeling to the ground, and had not the other fled he would 
have fared worse, for the guide had already drawn his sword. 
Bat after raging around the church for some time, he was 
obliged to abandon his undertaking, burning with fury. 

“ Franciotto had observed amongst the armed men, one 
dressed in a cape and mantle of the court, whom he recog- 
nized by the light of the torches, as the villain Doctor Jacopo 
da Montebuono. His presence in such a place, and with such 
a company, aroused strange suspicions. 

“ When they set out, he followed on behind them at a dis- 
tance, and instead of going for the barber, he determined to 
make sure of Jacopo himself. He only feared he might be 
attended by some of the company till he reached his own 
house. But it pleased God to order it otherwise. He lived at 
the entrance Della Langara, and when he reached Pontesisto, 
he took a short passage to his house, leaving the rest of his 
companions to pass over the bridge. Franciotto accosted him 
under the arch, and telling him to fear nothing, besought him 
to go with him to the Ripa Grande for a young lady who was 
dying, and so well did he operate upon him he effected his 
purpose, and they started off together. 

“ He had no sooner stepped under the awning of the boat 
than he saw he had been caught in a snare. Taking me aside, 
Franciotto told me what he had seen and heard before the door 
of S. Cecilia, and I began to think deeply — the veil was lifted, 
and in a flash I saw through everything that had passed. Ja- 
copo I knew to be a coward, and I seized him by the throat 
and threatened him, till he confessed that on the evening of 
the supper, he had, by order of Valentino, given to Ginevra a 
drugged wine, by virtue of which she had remained in a state 
of apparently suspended animation. To help on the plot, he 
had himself declared she was dead, and had her brought to 
the church, whence the Duke would be able to carry her off in 
the night. It was a miracle that a plot, so well laid, should all 
vanish in air ; and imagine how deep was my gratitude to God ! 

“ I looked Jacopo in the face, and said — ‘ Listen to me. Mas- 
ter Jacopo ; I can put an end to you very quick with this dag- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


65 


ger, but I’ll save your life on condition you can save hers. 
Choose then your remedies, if you would like to go back to your 
damnable crew safe ; and if you ever breathe a word of this 
to a living soul, I’ll kill you, as I would a dog, wherever you 
go !’ 

“ The trembling Master promised all I required, and instantly 
placed himself at the side of his victim, while we shoved off 
the boat. We arrived at Delia Magliana safely, a little after 
midnight. The good Master, however, has never opened his 
lips about it to this day. . 

“ Ginevra had in the meantime revived, and opening her 
eyes, gazed around wildly. Being now certain she would re- 
cover, and feeling I had performed a miracle, I thanked God 
from the bottom of my heart ; I knelt by the head of her bed, 
having secreted her in a small room of the wine -merchant. 
A short time after, she withdrew the hand I had been holding 
in mine, and which I had pressed to my forehead and lips, and 
pushing back the hair which had fallen over my eyes, she 
gazed on me intently, and exclaimed, ‘ Oh ! art thou my Ettore ? 
* * * But how here ? * * * Where are we ? * • * This does 
not seem like my chamber i * * * Pm in another bed ! * * * 
Oh ! God, what has happened ! ’ 

“ At this moment Franciotto, who came in at intervals of a 
few minutes to see hov/ everything was going on, entered the 
door. Gine\Ta gave a scream, and throwing herself on me all 
tremblingly, cried out * * * ‘ Help, me Ettore ! — there he is ! — 
there he is ! — Oh ! help me, blessed Virgin ! ’ I tried to com- 
pose her alarm as well as I could ; but all in vain : and so 
terribly was she overcome by the sight of the good Franci- 
otto, her eyes seemed to be bursting from her head. I saw the 
cause of her fright, and told her, ‘ Ginevra, don’t be alarmed — 
he is not the Duke, but my best friend on earth, and he would 
die to save thee ! ’ 

“ And, oh ! thou shouldst have seen how, at these words, all 
her fears dispelled, as she turned kindly towards Franciotto a 
look which seemed to ask pardon for her suspicion. Imagine 
how my heart cursed that demon at this hour. 

“ Ginevra then began to question me about the strange events 


66 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


that had brought her where she was. But I requested her to 
remain tranquil for a short time, confiding her safety to me, 
and think only of her health, which demanded repose. I 
persuaded her, and she became quiet ; and having taken a cor- 
dial, towards morning she fell into a tranquil sleep. 

“ But I slept not. Full well 1 knew it was madness to hope 
she could remain with me. In spite of my inclination and hers 
too, she would perhaps choose to return to her husband as 
soon as her strength would allow. I therefore sent Franciotto 
immediately to Rome to learn the state of matters there, 
and how the affair was understood. He returned towards 
evening with the intelligence that Valentino had assembled 
his forces and marched towards Romagna, taking Grajano and 
his troop with him. But nothing was known of his intentions. 

“ I communicated this to Ginevra and gave her a relation of 
everything that had occurred ; she hesitated what to do. I 
used all the arguments I could bring to convince her that she 
should by no means return to Rome where Valentino would be 
able again easily to get her into his hands and revenge him- 
self for the failure of his first plot ; that her husband, all absorb- 
ed in the affairs of the war and entirely won over to the Duke, 
would scarcely be able, even if he desired it, to render her 
effectual protection — and^ where could we trace his steps ? I 
prayed her with all the afiection of my soul not to oppose her- 
self to an almost divine admonition, which had brought us 
together again by such a strange order of events, and snatched 
her from the very midst of plots and perils. I showed her 
that after leaving the place where we were, her supposed 
death would elude suspicion, and enable us to seek some safe 
refuge where, free and tranquil, she might at least wait to fol- 
low the leadings of her wild fortune, and the destiny of her 
husband. Raising my hands to heaven, I uttered these words, 
— ‘Ginevra! I swear to you by the Most Holy Virgin, that 
with me thou shalt be as thou hast been with thy mother.’ 
Franciotto lent his persuasion also, and the good Ginevra, 
after many sighs, for she could not subdue the strange but 
pure feeling which sent the blush over her cheeks, replied : — 
* Ettore, thou shalt be my guide, and it rests with thee to show 
that Heaven has sent thee to be my protector.’ 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


67 


“ This resolution taken, I read another lecture to the doctor 
with my hand on my dagger, and sent him off to Rome with 
Franciotto, from whom I parted with the deepest pain. We 
embarked in a boat with our scanty wardrobe, and going down 
the river to Ostia, crossed over by land to Gaeta. The king- 
dom of Naples was then in the hands of the French, and Val- 
entino being on good terms with them, I did not feel secure 
till we were divided asunder a thousand miles. For this 
reason I endeavored to hasten on our journey as rapidly as 
possible, without risking the precious life of Ginevra. I made 
all our arrangements for the voyage, and leaving those hate- 
ful shores, we were brought by God’s blessing safely to Mes- 
sina. I thanked God with my whole soul for having brought 
us safely through such tremendous dangers.” 

At this moment Fieramosca raised his eyes and saw a large 
company of cavaliers riding up towards them from the camp. 

“ Too many things remain to be related,” he added, “ and 
now we have not time. But one word more. We passed 
nearly two years in that city. Ginevra retired into a convent, 
and I passed for her brother, and visited her often in her retreat. 
During this period the war broke out between the Spanish 
and French. The life I was leading seemed to me unworthy 
a soldier and an Italian, and bound as I was by my oath in S. 
Cecilia, I could not hope for a virtuous consummation to our 
love. 

“ All Italy was in arms. The French seemed to be the 
strongest party, and besides the love of country, which 
urged me on to fight against the most dangerous enemy, 
I bore an old grudge against the French, and hated them 
for their insolence. And to tell the whole truth, I hoped 
for more security for Ginevra under the protection of the 
banners of Spain, where Valentino could not reach her. 

“ I made known my feelings to the spirited Ginevra, who, 
notwithstanding her love for me, could not bear I should re- 
main behind, while the fortunes of Italy were being decided 
on the field of battle. My purpose was fixed, and I wrote to 
Signor Prospero Colonna, who was assembling an army for 
Gonzales, to enrol me under his banner. 


68 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


** At this time he was with his company at Manfredonia, and 
we made the voyage from Messina to that port. A strange 
accident occurred on the passage. We had reached Taranto, 
and reposing ourselves a little, we left the port one morning to 
go to Manfredonia. There was a thick fog, common in the 
month of May, and our vessel, with two lateen sails and twelve 
oarsmen, rode on calmly over the waters. About noon, we 
discovered four vessels approaching in our wake, at a gun- 
shot’s distance. They hailed us, and commanded us to heave 
to. I wished to escape from them, and we could have done 
it, for we had the wind free, but fearing they might make us 
some trouble with their guns, we shortened sail till they came 
up. They were Venetian vessels coming from Cyprus, con- 
ducting to Venice Caterina Cornara, Queen of that island. 
Hearing who we were, they gave us no disturbance, and we 
pursued our voyage behind them. It was already night, and 
the fog had become almost impenetrable. It seemed more 
than fortunate to have fallen in with fellow voyagers who 
helped us on in our passage through the darkness. 

“ About midnight, Ginevra retired to sleep. Only two men 
were left on deck to watch the sails and steer our vessel, and 
even they were half asleep. I could not sleep, and I sat on 
the prow agitated by a thousand fancies. All was still, and 
I thought I heard the footsteps of men on the deck of the 
Queen’s vessel, which was about half a bow-shot ahead of us. 
They were speaking in under-tones, but angry words were 
passing between them. I bent my ear down, and listened, 
and heard a woman’s voice mingling with the rest, apparently 
pleading for mercy. Soon after a cry followed and repeated 
several times, as though she was being choked. Then came 
a plunge in the water, like that of a body thrown into the sea. 
Suspicious of some foul deed, I raised myself up, and con- 
tracting my eyebrows saw something white floating on the 
water I leaped into the sea, and in four strokes was along 
side of it. I caught the border of a garment between my teeth 
and swam back to my vessel, drawing after me a body. My 
men had heard the noise, and they came forward to help me 
on board with the body. We found on examination, it was a 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


69 


young female, with no garment on but a chemise, her hands 
bound with a cord, and she gave no sign of life. But by in- • 
stant and powerful restoratives she came to. We fell back 
some distance astern of the Venetians, who kept on their 
voyage, and paid no attention to us, as we shortened sail and 
waited for daylight. At sunrise we again spread our canvass, 
and in a few hours reached Manfredonia, where I found Signor 
Prospero, and took lodgings for Ginevra at the inn. 

“ Thou wouldst ask, perhaps, who this damsel could be we 
saved from the sea ; but I cannot gratify thy curiosity, for I do 
not even know myself. Neither Ginevra nor I have ever been 
able to get a word from her about her history. She was born 
in the Levant, and is, without doubt, a Saracen; and she is 
one of the most pure, and upright, and amiable persons in the 
world — at the same time so undaunted, she has no fears of 
arms or blood, and in the face of danger she is more man than 
woman. From that day to this she has remained with Gi- 
nevra. I prevailed on the abbess of S. Ursula to receive them 
both into her convent, where we are so near each other, while 
the war keeps us shut up in Barletta, that I can visit them 
almost every day.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


At this moment the French cavaliers, who were to conduct 
the two Italian knights to the camp, rode up ; and they mounted 
their horses to accompany them. They passed through long 
lines of tents and pavilions, amused with the aspect of the 
multitude who gathered around the road to learn the object of 
their coming. Passing a crowd of soldiers, they came out on 
a piazza, formed by numerous pavilions on the four sides, and 
in the centre, under a large spreading oak, was extended the 
tent of the commander. Here was congregated the flower 
of the officers of the army. They dismounted, and were 
ushered into the pavilion. After a brief but courteous recep- 
tion, two stools were brought, and they took their seats with 
their backs to the door. 

The tent, which was lined with drapery of blue, embroidered 
with gold lilies, was in the form of a quadrangle, divided into 
two equal squares by four light columns of wood, variegated 
with stripes of blue and gold. On the back part stood the 
couch, covered with a leopard’s skin, under which two large 
hounds were sleeping. Near by was a table, loaded with a 
quantity of flagons, brushes, decorations of honor, and jewels, 
flung confusedly together ; behind which was placed a polygon 
mirror, in a frame of chiselled silver, which showed the gentU 
Duke did not disdain the arts of the toilet. The modem ex- 
quisite would have sought in vain upon this toilette^ the indis- 
pensable Eau de Cologne ; but he would have found a substitute 
in two large vases of gilt-silver, labelled Eau de Citrebany and 
Eau Dor^e. Several suits of armor were suspended from the 
columns in the form of trophies ; and extending from one to the 
other on hooks, glistened lances and spears. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


71 


tinder them, in the centre of the tent, sat Louis a’Armagnac, 
Duke of Nemours, Viceroy of Naples, who had been entrusted 
with the management of this war by Louis XII. He was 
dressed in a blue mantle, lined with sable ; and his noble features 
shone with youth, daring and chivaleresque courtesy. L’Aubigne, 
Ibo d’Alegre, Bajardo, Monseigneur de la Palisse, and Chan- 
denier, were by his side ; and all around were clustered knights 
and barons of less importance, who formed the circle that 
closed around Ettore and Brancaleone. 

The latter knew a good deal better how to manage his hands 
than his tongue, and he left to Fieramosca the task of unfolding 
their embassy. 

The young knight rose ; and casting around the circle a rapid 
glance, which gleamed with the bold ardor, unmixed with inso- 
lence, which became so well the place, the hearers and the 
subject of his mission, he related the insult of. La Motte, pro- 
posed the challenge, and in compliance with the etiquette of 
the limes, explained the paper he held in his hand, and then 
read the following communication : — 

“ High and Puissant Seigneur Louis d’ Armagnac, Due de Nemours. 

Having understood that Guy de La Motte, in presence of Don 
Ynigo Lopez de Ayala, declared the knights of Italy cowards in warj 
therefore, with your good pleasure, we answer, that he has basely lied, 
and will lie as often as he repeats the charge. And for this cause we 
demand that you please to grant us the field a toute outrance for us and 
ours, against him and his, in equal number, ten against 

“ Prospebo Colonna, 
“Fabritio Colonna. 

« Die VIIL Jprilis, MDIir 

When he had finished reading the challenge, he flung it at 
the feet of the Duke, and Bajardo, unsheathing his sword, raised 
it on the point. A moment after, while he was speaking to 
the Duke of the challenge, his burning eye fell upon a brightly 
burnished shield which hung on a column before his face, and 
reflected those who stood behind as clear as life. There 
crossed this shield Grajano d’Asti. It confused him, and turn- 
ing round, he saw, not two paces from him, the husband of 
Ginevra, who stood with the rest listening to his words. This 


72 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


sudden and unexpected discovery took from the close of his 
words the sting he had designed to give them. By his hearers 
who knew not his secret history, this embarrassment was 
attributed to a cause too far from the truth, not to do a wrong 
to the honor of Fieramosca. A sneer was seen on the face of 
more than one of the French officers ; and they whispered 
among themselves, that little was to be feared from a man who 
trembled at the name of battle.” He saw their sneers and 
heard their whispers, and he felt a torrent of fire streaming 
through his cheeks — ^but he calmed his agitation by inwardly 
saying : — “ When the trial comes, they’ll see if 1 tremble.” 

The answer of the Duke was not wanting either m words 
or presumption ; for even he had been deceived by the man- 
ner of the Italian, into a false estimate of his courage. In a 
few minutes this parliament ended, and the two messengers 
were offered refreshments for themselves and their horses in a 
neighboring camp. 

Grajano had also recognized Fieramosca, and when he left 
the presence of the Duke, he followed him. He approached 
him and saluted him with the air of a man who veilues more 
the gifts of fortune, than those of virtue. When he knew him 
he was a poor knight, nor did he now appear to him to have 
very materially bettered his circumstances since that time. 

“ Oh !” said he, “ Sig. Giovanni ! ♦ • * No, * Sig. * * Motte 
• * * devil take it, I don’t remember your name * * But no 
matter * * And so those who die not, meet again !” 

“ Exactly,” answered Fieramosca, who, notwithstanding the 
generosity of his character, could not repress his vexation on 
seeing one he believed to be in the other world, still living — 
the rightful possessor of her he loved better than life. He tried 
hard to thmk of something that would cut off the edge of that 
“exactly,” but it was a fruitless attempt, and he kept silent. 
But Grajano was not a man of sensibility enough to trouble 
himself about matters of etiquette, and finding he was obliged 
to do the talking, he continued : “ Well, what are we doing ? 
For Spain, ha?” 

To Ettore these interrogations in the plural seemed to savor 
too much of impudence, and he replied : 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


73 


What are we doing ? Fott, 1 can’t say — / bear a lance 
with Sig. Prospero Colonna.” 

“ Ah ! you don’t forget the proverb,” said the Piedmontese 
laughing. “ ‘ Orsin, Colonna and Frangipano exact to-day, to- 
morrow pay.' ” 

This distich was current at that time among the fortune- 
seeking soldiery of Italy, and originated in the lack of money 
so common to the Barons of the Campagna of Rome, who had 
made themselves more notorious for grasping after the goods 
of others than being punctual in paying their soldiers. 

But Fieramosca was in no mood for joking at this moment, 
and made no reply, except to put a courteous inquiry for his 
health, and to ask him why he had abandoned the service ol 
Valentino. 

“ Oh !” answered Grajano, “ the reason is, he expects too 
much of us, and keeps too much meat boiling, and if the Pope 
happens to die to-day or to-morrow, they’ll all be on his shoul- 
ders at once, and make him pay back principal and interest. 
But enough ! It’s better to say neither good nor evil of that 
gentleman. But now I’m contented where I am, and I would 
not change places with the Pope himself.” 

While this dialogue was going on they reached the tent, 
where they found breakfast spread for them. When the meal 
was done and the table removed, they were summoned by the 
Duke for the answer to the challenge. As in duty bound it 
was full of pride and boasting. The French were always 
ready for battle, and wished the number had been thirteen to 
ten, an unlucky number chosen to foretell wo to the Italians. 

A sealed letter to Gonzales was consigned to the messen- 
gers, and on another sheet the list of the combatants chosen 
by the French was written. 

They went back to their tent and waited for their horses to 
come up. In the meantime flasks of wine were brought in, 
and drank in the company of several knights, among whom 
was Bajardo. When they had finished their wine Bajardo re- 
quested Fieramosca to show him the list, and Ettore took it 
from his doublet and handed it to him. They all gathered 
around Bajardo while he read the following names : 

4 


74 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Ctiarles de Tourges, Marc de Frignes, Giraut de Forses, Mar 
telliiii de Lambris, Pierre de Liaye, Jacques de la Fontaine 
Eliot de Baraut, Jean de Landes, Sacet de Tacet, Guy de la 
Mothe, Jacques de Guignes, Nante de la Fraise, Claude Gra- 
jan d’Asti. 

“Claudio Grajano d’Asti!” exclaimed Fieramosca, gazing 
on him with astonishment. 

“ Yes, Claudio Grajano d’Asti,” the knight himself replied, 
“ perhaps you think he ’s not fit to appear in such glorious 
company I ” 

“ But tell me, Monsieur Claude, do you know why this com- 
bat is to take place ? ” 

“ What ? Do you think I am deaf? To be sure I do.” 

“ Know, then, that the Italians are branded by the French 
as poltroons and traitors ; and this is the reason why we give 
the challenge. Now, for God’s sake, tell me what country you 
belong to ? ” 

“ I hail from Asti.” 

“ And is not Asti in Piedmont ? And Piedmont, is it in Italy or 
France ? And being yourself an Italian soldier, can you lift 
your sword with the French against the honor of the Italians ? ” 

As he uttered these words, Fieramosca’s eyes flashed fire, and 
he would have given vent to his passion in more violent lan- 
guage ; but he remembered the vow which hindered him from 
lifting sword against this man. But Grajano, who was a thou- 
sand miles from divining the thoughts of Fieramosca, could not 
understand at first where so many questions were to end. He 
at last made out to get it into his brain, when Ettore had done ; 
and he thought the talk he had listened to was the sheerest 
nonsense in the world. Hardly deigning to reply directly to 
the point in question, he turned round to his companions, and 
said with a laugh — 

“ O, dear — ^just listen to this ! One would say this was the 
very first day he ever took a lance in his hand. I hold in 
my pocket the Italians — Italy and he who wishes them well — 1 
fight for those who pay me ! Don’t you know, my beautiful 
boy, that for us soldiers, where we find bread, there is our 
country ? ” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


75 


“ 1 do not call myself beautiful boy : I am known by the 
name of Ettore Fieramosca,” he replied — for he could no longer 
restrain his indignation — “ and I know nothing of the pol- 
troonery you speak of. And were it not * * *»’ Here his 
hand flew almost involuntarily to the hilt of his swbrd — but 
he soon withdrew it ; and he continued to speak with the firm 
set face of a man forced to swallow his own bitter indignation , 
“ One thing, by heavens, I cannot bear ! — that these noble 
gentlemen, and you. Monsieur Bajardo, who are the first man 
ill the world in our profession, and the bravest and most loyal, 
should have to listen to an Italian vituperate his country. But 
who knows not that traitors grow in all countries ? ” 

“ Traitor thou art ! ” cried out the Piedmontese, in a voice of 
thunder. Both of them laid their hands on their swords ; but 
they did not entirely unsheathe them — for multitudes on all 
sides rushed forward and separated them, remembering that 
the person of a herald is held sacred, and can neither insult 
another, nor be insulted himself. The cries and the tumult 
were excessive ; but the voice of Bajardo, heard above all the 
rest, restored order, and Grajano was removed by force from 
the spot. 

After sheathing his sword, which he drove violently into 
its scabbard by a blow with his hand upon the hilt, Fieramosca 
turned to Bajardo, and excused himself for what had taken 
place. He, in return, laid his two hands on his shoulders, and 
looked him so full in the face that the young knight half 
blushed, and let his eyes fall. They stood so for a moment ; 
and then, kissing Ettore’s forehead, he said to him, “ Blessed he 
the woman who gave you birth ! ” 

One hour after, the drawbridge of the gate of Barletta was 
lowered for Ettore and Brancaleone to enter the city. 


CHAPTER VII. 


The morning of the day we have spoken of, which had 
been occupied by the Italians in preparing for the battle, was 
not lost by the guests, who the evening before occupied the 
chambers over the kitchen in the inn of the Sun. Their names, 
a secret unknown to all in Barletta saving the Capo Squadra 
Boscheriiio, shall not be such to our readers. They were 
Csesar Borgia, Duke Valentino, and Don Michele da Corella, 
one of his condottiere. 

To compare these villains to wild beasts the most malignant, 
and the foes of everything living, would be too feeble an 
image. These act from instinct, and instinct obeys its own 
^ limits. But what limit can be assigned to the evil deeds of 
perverse human hearts,, guided by ingenuity of the most dia- 
bolical subtleness, furnished with power and with valor (for 
too true it is, not all villains are cowards), and enormous 
wealth ? 

The son of Alexander VI., the terror of Italy and of- every 
man in, it who possessed gold, titles, or a lovely wife or daugh- 
ter, was now almost alone in a miserable house, and in the 
midst of thousands, who would have given their lives to have 
wreaked their vengeance on his head, 

Those who know not what security a mind strongly tempted, 
allied with a cold and calculating judgment, can find in itself, 
would give to such confidence as this the name of temerity. 
But the Duke was no stranger to himself, and weighing in a 
balance the danger with the gain he hoped to reap by coming 
to Barletta — found the chances in his own favor. Two motives 
influenced him to take this step. One was to find Ginevra, 
who he had many reasons to believe was certainly with 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


77 


Fieramosca; and if we cannot suppose such a man would 
esteem her above all other women in the world, it may at least 
be safely asserted it had aroused all his passion to find his well 
laid plot utterly defeated. The other motive was political, and 
to give our readers a clear idea of it, we must divert their 
attention for a moment to the dark and subtle workings of the 
politics of that age. 

The power of the Borgia family, which had its origin in the 
elevation of Cardinal Rodrigo Lenzuoli to the Pontifical throne, 
had been so fearfully augmented by arms, temporal and 
spiritual, by intrigues and treacheries, by mari'iage, alliances, 
and the aid of France, that the suspicions of every Prince and 
every Republic of Italy had become roused against them. At 
first a cardinal, but malcontent with the pay of the purple. 
Caesar Borgia formed the purpose of seizing on the entire estate 
of his father, to reap by a single swing of his arm the fruit of 
their common crimes. The Duke of Candia, his brother, gon- 
falonier of the Holy See, to whom the Pontiff was resolute to 
give a kingdom in Italy j was the only obstacle that could now 
thwart his ambition. A poniard paid by the cardinal, or, as 
some suppose, wielded by his own hand, disposed of this ob- 
stacle in a single night. A poor laborer, who guarded the coal- 
boats at Ripetta, saw three men come down to the bank of the 
river. One of them was on horseback — it was the cardinal, 
and lying across his horse with a man at the head and another 
at his feet, was borne the corpse of his brother; they threw it 
into the Tiber, washed off the blood-stains from the pommel 
of his saddle, and disappeared in a dark lane. 

^ A month afterwards, the Duke of Valenza threw aside the 
purple and was on a battle-horse at the head of an army. 
By resorting in one place to force and another to treachery, he 
had got possession of Faenza, Cesina, Forli, La Romagna, a 
portion of La Marca, Camerino and Ubino. But the means by 
which he won, and the arts by which he maintained his ill- 
gotten power, the universal outrage he had perpetrated, roused 
against him universal indignation, which only waited an oc- 
casion to burst forth. This might be furnished in two ways — 
by the death of his father, or the abandonment of the French. 


78 


THE CHALLENGE OF BATILETTA. 


The age of the Pope and the fluctuating fortunes of the French 
arms, admonished him to provide himself with other resources 
against the day these should fail. 

His penetrating eye, which nothing could elude, the scni- 
tinizer of every sign, and the diviner of the darkest and 
most hidden heart, laid open to him clearly the condition of 
Italy. He well knew the valor and impetuosity of the French, 
which could win a decisive engagement on the field of battle, 
but never support the harassings of a long and difiicult war. 
He foresaw that Gonzales alone would be able to prostrate 
their power ; and his valor, his prudence, and his invincible 
perseverance, had already threatened to lay the lilies of France 
in the dust. He saw the wisdom of attempting to bind that 
man to himself by some link which would hold up his fortunes, 
if his old allies failed him. Such a dangerous attempt, which, 
if the vefy breath of it reached the French, would defeat all his 
scheme, could be entrusted to no one, and for these reasons he 
had secretly left Sinigaglia and come to Barletta. 

It was now an hour before day-break, and Valentmo, whose 
iron nerves scarcely knew the necessity of sleep, left his bed 
and called up Don Michele, who was already awake waiting 
his signal, and handing him a letter, said : 

“ This to Gonzales. He will give thee a salva-condotta. If 
he inquire for me I am not in Barletta, but not far off. Last 
night from those soldiers revelling below, I learned all about 
Ginevra, Now I am sure Fieramosca has her with him, and 
not far off, and I presume in the place where he goes by sea 
Before vespers I must know where it is. Find Fieramosca, 
and take care they don’t escape me.” ' 

Don Michele received the letter and orders of his master with- 
out a word of reply. He returned to his chamber, dressed him- 
self, and at daylight he flung his cloak and hood about him, 
and started for the castle. 

As Don Michele left the inn, the Duke stood at the window. 
He followed him with a malicious eye, and his face wore an 
expression that in any other man would have presaged death. 
And yet of all the villains he had in his service — and he had 
many that were the most notorious — none could read the soul 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


79 


of all his enterprises like the man he was watching ; and if 
confidence can be placed by a fiend in one of his own species, 
certain it is he had ’given proof to his master of his fidelity on 
many critical occasions. But for the very reason he had been 
placed by'him under the greatest obligations, and could not 
dismiss him from his post without cutting off his own right 
arm. Caesar Borgia hated him. Little was known of his ori- 
gin. He was supposed to be aNavarrese, and in consequence 
of his having entered the service of the Duke, a tale was 
current of a strange act of vengeance said to have been per- 
petrated by him on his own brother, in the manner we shall 
relate. 

Don Michele had a young and beautiful wife, and a younger 
brother of his, unmarried, lived with him in his house. The 
charms of his sister-in-law so entirely captivated the heart of 
the youth, that he threw aside all decorum, won her affection, 
and consummated it all by a guilty union. But their practices 
were discovered by a maid in the family, who revealed every- 
thing to the husband. He watched his opportunity and surprised 
them. Drawing a dagger he rushed upon them at the moment 
and attempted to slay them both, but they escaped from his 
hands only slightly wounded. So deeply incensed was he at 
this insult, that he put himself on the track of his brother, 
who had fled with his wife to a place of security, resolute to 
shed his blood at all hazards. Hearing he had sworn to 
kill him, the young man contrived, by disguising himself, to 
elude his search for several years, and at last the injured 
man, giving up all hope of ever wreaking his vengeance, was, 
by the workings of this fiendish passion, brought almost to 
the grave. 

In the meantime, a jubilee was held in the year 1 485, and in the 
city where Don Michele resided, processes and penances were 
made, and exhortations delivered in the public squares, to incite 
the people to lay aside all their animosities. Many reconci- 
liations took place, and even Don Michele himself resolved 
to forget all his revenge, and devote himself to the service 
of God. He sent to his brother the 'most solemn assurances 
of his forgiveness, but they had no effect, for he had determined 


80 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


never to put himself in his power. At the close of the Holy 
year Don Michele, Avho had consumed it all in ceaseless pen 
ances, abandoned the world entirely, and entering a monas- 
tery of Scalze, passed his novitiate and took the solemn 
vows. He was sent by his superiors through Spain, and at 
last to Rome for the study of theology, where he became a 
celebrated Doctor of the church, and returning to his native 
city with the reputation of a holy life, he was admitted to 
the priesthood. He celebrated the first Mass with all the 
pomp and crowd of people, friends and relations, common on 
such occasions. At the conclusion of these holy functions, 
he retired to the sacristy and seated himself (according to 
the custom) upon a stool with a large company of friends 
and kinsmen around him, who came up one after another to 
embrace him and kiss his hand. 

He had been heard by everybody often to lament the hatred 
he had so many years cherished against his brother — that he 
had no desire in the world, but to obtain an entire oblivion 
of the past, and as he was the servant of God, he humiliated 
himself first. Moved at last by the prayers of all his kins- 
men, the brother had resolved to present himself with the 
rest on this solemn occasion, and he now appeared before 
him. The priest greeted him with tenderness, and spoke to 
him with the utmost affection, throwing his anus around him 
and pressing him to his heart. His brother’s head was seen 
to fall, his knees gave way under him, and giving a. loud 
shriek, he fell to the ground. The priest brandished in the 
air a glittering poniard, which in that embrace he had driven 
to his brother’s heart, and kissing the reeking blade, he cried 
out as he dashed his foot against the bleeding corpse, “ I am 
revenged at last,” and disappeared. The horror-stricken crowd 
were so petrified with consternation, not a finger was lifted 
against the murderer. 

A price was instantly set on his head, and he fled from 
country to country, till he at last took refuge in Rome, and 
Csesar Borgia saved his life. This personage troubled him.self 
very little about the virtues uf his protege ; he made him the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


81 


agent of his most atrocious deeds, and the villain monk soon 
became the soul of all Borgia’s mfemal crimes. 

When he reached the gate of the castle, he was asked by 
the guard the business that brought him ; he showed a small 
box he held under his arm, saying, he had just arrived from 
the Levant, and sought Gonzales to offer to him a collection 
of the rarest remedies, secrets against spells, and a hundred 
other lies. One of the soldiers, after scrutinizing him closely, 
beckoned to him to follow him. 

They entered a large court-yard shut in by lofty buildmgs 
of ancient architecture. The chambers of each story opened 
on terraces over the court, supported by columns of grey- 
stone, supported by circular or hexagonal arches according 
to the respective periods of their construction. A large num- 
ber of round towers crowned with battlements a coda di ron- 
dincy built of antique red brick, rose at unequal distances, 
high over the rodf of the castle. On the summit of the lar- 
gest of the towers, called the Tower of the Clock, a large 
yellow and vermillion standard was waving, the banner of 
Spain. 

They mounted the first story by a flight of steps on the 
outside, which conducted to a large parapet, ornamented 
with a row of lions, rudely sculptured in stone, and entered 
a hall, where Don Michele was left by his guide, who said 
to him : 

“ When the Gran Capitano comes out, you can speak to 
him.” 

“ And if you please, when will that be ?” 

“ When he pleases,” bluntly replied the soldier, as he went 
about his business.” 

Don Michele knew very well that patience is the divinity 
of ante-chambers, so he was silent. Seeing a company of 
knights assembled at the end of the hall near the great win- 
dows, which opened on the sea, scrutinizing him closely, he 
began to pass away his time in loitering about to look at 
the old pictures, which lined the walls. By degrees he^ came 
nearer and nearer to the company. “ Who knows,” thought he 
to himself, “ but I may make a good hit here ?” At last he 
4 * 


82 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAR LETT A. 


artfully seized an opportunity of throwing a word into their 
conversation, and in a few moments he was talking Avith as 
much freedom as though he had been one of their own 
company. 

That fortune which the brave invoke so often without 
effect, served him a good deal better than he expected. 
Eyeing this company of knights with a keen glance, he sin- 
gled out one of their number who was a man about fifty 
years old, tall and thin, with a shoulder rising a little out 
of symmetry, who carried at his belt a large sword, that hung 
out behind his cloak, and swung against the shins of the 
men back of him, as he went on scraping and bowing, 
recognizing the quality of each man’s station, and particu- 
larly those of the highest rank. His eyebrows, which arched 
up half the expanse of his forehead, and his two grey full 
and wondering eyes, gave to his lean face an expression 
of curiosity mingled with simplicity, which appeared more 
strikingly in the everlasting smile of complacency, which 
accompanied all his conversation. This good man was Don 
Litterio Defastidiis, Podesta of Barletta, and he was at once 
the most curious, the most vain and the most troublesome 
man in the world. 

Don Michele, who was a subtle physiognomist, saw in a 
moment he had found his man. He accosted him with that 
courteous and open manner he knew so well how to counter- 
feit when it suited his purpose, and began to converse with 
him. The Podesta never closed a speech without the necessary 
joke (and our reader will most certainly understand what we 
allude to if he has ever whiled away half an hour after dinner 
under the porch of an apothecary's shop in some small country 
town in the kingdom of Naples), and he, moreover, always 
expected you to laugh at his wit. Don Michele was now, of 

course, all the while bursting with laughter, and telling him 

“I never saw before the funniest man in the world!” “Oh! 
this is rich !” “ That’s curious enough and in less than half 
an hour they were the greatest cronies in the world. 

At this point, Prospero Colonna, who came out from the 
presence of Gonzales with the salva-condotta for the combat. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


83 


passed through the hall, and they all bowed him a reverence. 
Don Michele asked who the Baron was, and Don Litterio, no 
friend to taciturnity, now began one of his long yarns, and told 
all about the challenge, and what was said at the supper of 
Fieramosca, and his love adventures. Don Michele, who found 
more fish coming into his net than he had hoped for, hastily 
demanded, 

“ This young man, * * what do you call him ?” 

“ Fieramosca.” 

“ Ah, this Fieramosca is, without doubt, one of your most 
excellent friends ?” 

“ That he is ; — my bosom-friend, and the friend of Signor 
Prospero, and in fact, everybody loves him. * * He’s one of 
the finest young fellows in the world. * * We meet every 
evening in the house of Colonna, or in the piazza ! Pity he has 
such a sad look ; never laughs — never ! You see him always 
going round with the face of an excommunicated man, who 
makes your very heart ache. And I ! why, Pve known all 
about this secret of his for half an age, but they never would 
believe me. These soldiers are curious fellows — they think 
it’s a shame to fall in love. In a single word last night, this 
French Baron, who knew him at Rome, let the cat out of the 
bag, and now it’s certain, — the old proverb is true ; 

“ Love’s a scab, a coughing cold, 

Who has it not, need not be told.” 

This pleasantry of the Podesta was received by D. Michele 
with a burst of laughter, which he was obliged to repeat three 
or four times, as it happened to please Don Litterio to repeat 
his proverb just as often. 

After the joke was passed, Don Michele contmued : “ I could 
cure such love by a single sight of the man, so entirely, that 
the poor victim would no longer remember it himself. But” * 

* * here followed a pause to be asked to go on. 

“ Cure him ?” exclaimed the Podesta, “ how do you want to 
cure him ? This is a sort of fever that takes other medicine 
than what comes from the apothecaries.” 

“ And I tell you, I only want to see one of his friends who 
will help me, and I’ll lose my head if I prove a liar.” • 


84 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Don Litterio looked at him a moment to see if he was jesting 
or speaking in earnest, and there’s no need of saying that Don 
Michele knew what sort of a look to put on then. When the 
doubting Podesta was half satisfied, he contmued : “ If that’s 
all you want, you can have it.” 

And he chuckled with inward satisfaction to think he should 
have the glory of this wonderful cure, as he had boasted the 
honor of being the first to discover the disease. And, without 
doubt, the man who could work the miracle of making Fiera- 
mosca a good, jovial fellow, fond of mirth, would have been 
lauded to heaven by everybody who knew him. He, there- 
fore, began to ply Don Michele, to find out how he was to 
bring about so difficult a matter ; and the latter held back till 
he had been importuned for some time, for he was particularly 
anxious to keep out of a pitfall just at this crisis. But, at last, 
he yielded to his entreaties, and replied, that when he was in 
the comitry of the Turks, he had seen used, and possessed 
himself of a wonderful secret which could overcome the 
most passionate love ; and it was not long before he had so 
entirely made himself master of the credulous brain of the poor 
Podesta, that he thanked his stars for the day that brought 
them together. 

“ It all depends,” said he, “ upon one thing — I must see his 
beloved five minutes — then leave the rest to me.” 

“ But really, as for that, you take me so suddenly. I could 
not promise it exactly ; for, to tell you the truth, I don’t know 
her myself. But, if she be in Barlettta, or within ten miles of 
the place, have no trouble about it. Twenty-four hours won’t 
go by before I give you some information. Now I’ll hunt up 
Giuliano * * he’s the knave of the town — a very devil to know 
everything.” 

“And where shall I see you ?” asked Don Michele 

“ Wherever you like.” 

“ Well, then, if you say so, we’ll meet at the inn of the Sun, 
about an hour before sun-down.” 

“We understand each other,” answered Don Litterio, and 
leaving Don Michele astonished at his good luck, the Podestk 
hurried away to the palace of the Comune, to find Giuliano ; 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


85 


but, with the permission of our reader, we shall not accompany 
him, for we should hate to leave Don Michele to be too much 
annoyed by his long ante-chamber. 

He waited some time, without success, for Gonzales to 
appear, and at last obtained permission to be introduced. 

The Spanish captain was leaning against a window, wrap- 
ped in a robe of satin of vermillion, lined with grey minevre; and 
his august presence, his lofty forehead, and his piercing eye, 
and finally, the fame of the great man, awoke in the breast of 
the Condottiere of Caesar Borgia that sense of fear, and I might 
almost say of meanness, which the profligate always feel 
when they stand before a virtuous man. He made an humble 
and profound salutation, and said : 

“ Glorious Signore ! The importance of the message with 
which I am intrusted, has made it necessary to present myself 
in your august presence under a name which is not my own. 
If in this I have offended you, I humbly crave pardon. But, as 
you will know, the secret was too important to be entrusted 
even to your own guards. It could only be communicated 
directly to your glorious honor.” 

To these words Gonzales briefly replied, that no confidence 
reposed in him should suffer, and requested him to explain 
himself. Don Michele consigned the Duke’s letter. He ob- 
tained a salva-condotta, and taking it to his master he gave him 
the assurance that the secret of his arrival at Barletta would be 
safe in the keeping of Gonzales. He also informed him of the 
fair prospect of the researches of his new friend, the Podestk. 
Valentino, pleased with the favorable turn his affairs seemed 
to be taking, drew his hood over his eyes, and wrapping him- 
self in his mantle, left the inn. Taking a boat, he rowed round 
behind the castle, where Gonzales has promised Don Michele 
he would have a person in readiness to meet him. A small 
gate was* opened, through which he was conducted, and pass- 
ing up a secret stairway he was led through a succession of 
dark passages till he reached the private room of the Spanish 
captain. 

It seems to us unnecessary to give a minute relation of what 
passed at this interview. In substance Valentino exposed 


86 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


with an astonishing clearness, a summary of Italian affairs, the 
forces, the hopes and the fears of the Italian States. He gave 
him to understand he would gladly have allied himself Avith 
the fortunes of Spam ; professing to be drawn to that side by 
the desire of bettering the condition of Italy, whose wounds he 
hoped would cease to bleed if once the Spanish dominion could 
be established in the peninsula; and he succeeded, by his open 
candor, which he could assume to perfection, in leaving upon 
the mind of his listener a better opinion of himself than fame 
had awarded him. He offered to make a league with Spain, 
which should be ratified by the Pope, and into which the Vene- 
tians should be admitted if they desired it, by which the con- 
tracting parties should bind themselves reciprocally to aid each 
other in all their undertakings, and the confederation was to be 
made public only when the Spaniards should have become 
masters of two-thirds of the kingdom of Naples. He proposed 
with the forces he had then already gathered to make the inva- 
sion of Tuscany ; showing that the Florentines were the best 
friends of the French in Italy, and the advantage they would 
mutually derive by humbling so powerful a state. He added 
he esteemed it important to the interests of their league to gain 
the alliance of the Pisans, who would court their aid to enable 
them to redress the wrongs perpetrated against them by the 
Florentine Kepublic, over which an extension of power would 
make them most vigilant guardians. 

Gonzales had no essential objections to these proposals, and 
the subtle genius of CjEsar Borgia knew how to embellish with 
a striking light these matters, which were in a great part true. 
But the Spaniard knew the man he was dealing with, and 
found it no easy matter to trust him an inch out of his sight. 
He determined for the present to give him no definitive answer, 
and replied he must take council of his confidential advisers 
before he could adopt such a resolution. But he was not 
wanting to Valentino either in fair words or courteous offers. 
He conducted him to a suite of rooms on the ground floor, which 
looked out on the sea, offering them to his service during the 
time he remained in Barletta; and placed at his disposition 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


87 


some of his most confidential attendants, who treated him with 
all the honor due to the son of a Pope. 

It was towards evening when Fieramosca and Brancaleone 
reached the gates of the city. As soon as they entered, a 
crowd of officers, men-at-arms and soldiers, gathered around 
them, augmented by all they met in the streets, each one 
ambitious to be the first to know the answer of the French. 
“ How have matters gone ? ” “ What was their answer ? ” 

“ Who are to be the combatants ? ” “ When and where will 
the combat be ? ” But the friends smiled at their curiosity, and 
told them — “ Come on with us to the castle, and you’ll know it 
all.” They entered the castle, and were brought into the pres- 
ence of Gonzales. Fieramosca delivered to him the letter of 
the Duke de Nemours, which he read in a loud voice. He told 
them the challenge was accepted, but a free field denied. This 
refusal appeared strange, and the great captain said — 

“I did not suppose the French would have resorted to subter- 
fuges to escape the combat ; but the free field you shall have — 
I promise it to you ” And calling a secretary, he said, “ Write 
to the Duke de Nemours, that he may lay aside his fears, for his 
difficulty is removed — I offer him a truce till the combat is over : 
and, finally, that within two days I expect the arrival of my 
daughter Elvira, when I intend to give a little f^te ; and if he 
will condescend, while our arms are idle, to join in our festi- 
vities, it will add no little to our gaiety.” 

Between the writing, the sending the letter, and reception of 
the answer, hardly two hours passed. The Duke de Nemours 
accepted the invitation, and the truce was proclaimed through- 
out the city that evening, with the sounding of the trumpet, 
together with the names of the Italian combatants ; to whom, 
to complete the number, the following three names were joined : 
Ludovico Amindle da Terni, Mariano da Sarni, and Giovanni 
Cupoccio, Romano, 


CHAPTER VIII. 


The convent on the little island which lay between Mount 
Gargano and Barletta, was dedicated to Saint Ursula. Its walls, 
at the present day, present only a vast ruin, covered with thorns 
and overrun with ivy. But at the epoch of our history, they 
were still strong, and formed an edifice of sombre appearance, 
raised by the late remorse of a princess of the house of Anjou, 
who came here to end in holiness a, life which had been wasted 
in licentiousness and ambition. A more tranquil or enchanting 
solitude could not have been found in the wide world. 

On a rock which rose about twenty cubits above the level of 
the sea, there was a table of fertile soil, five hundred paces in 
circumference. On an angle nearest the mainland, stood the 
church. Its entrance was formed by a beautiful portico, sup- 
ported by delicate columns of russet granite. The interior, 
divided into three aisles, with sharp hexagonal arches, resting 
on slender sculptured columns, ornamented, received its light 
from long gothic windows of painted glass, representing the 
history of the -miracles of the patron saint. The gallery be- 
hind the main altar was circular, and adorned with mosaics, 
inlaid with gold. The Eternal Father was represented in glory ; 
and at his feet Saint Ursula, with the eleven thousand virgins, 
borne by angels, 

The church, separated some distance from the convent, was 
almost always empty. Only at stated hours of the day and 
the night, the nuns assembled to chant their choruses. It was 
now towards evening. The vesper-hymn was chanting behind 
the main altar, in its measured, soothing monotony. A woman 
knelt praying by the side of a tomb of white marble, yellowed 
by years, and covered with a canopy also of marble, adorned 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


89 


with carved leaves, and animals of the Gothic style, and here 
reposed the ashes of the founder of the convent. 

This female, clothed in a Veil of the color of the marble, 
which extended to the ground, was pale and inimovable, and 
would have seemed, as she knelt in prayer, but a statue placed 
tfiere by the sculptor in her orison, had not two long locks of 
chestnut hair appeared without the veil, and her face, which at 
times was lifted to Heaven, had not revealed blue eyes, from 
which beamed all the intense fervor of an earnest prayer. 

Poor Ginevra (for it was her) had reason to pray, for she 
found herself in circumstances where a woman’s heart must 
have other help than her own, to conquer herself. She 
repented, but too late, she had ever consented to follow 
Fieramosca, and unite her fortunes, in some measure, with 
those of a man whom prudence and duty required her to fly 
from, above all men in the world. She repented of not having 
taken pains to inform herself of her husband, if he were dead 
or alive. But reason told her what had been too long delayed, 
could still be done. But her heart answered it is too late ; 
and this too late sounded to her like the sentence of doom. 
The days dragged on endless, filled with anguish and bitter- 
ness. Stripped of every hope of escaping from her torment, 
except by yielding herself to one of the two passions that 
consumed her, her constitution was fast sinking under the 
insupportable weight of the struggle. 

The morning hours, and those near mid-day, passed less 
heavily. She worked at embroidery, she had her books, 
and the garden of the convent for walking. But the night ! 
Thoughts the most dark and cares the most distracting seemed 
like those insects which come out in swarms, when the sun 
goes down, to multiply and rush upon her without number at 
that hour. The church then was her only refuge. She found 
no joy there, nor peace, but she at least found some moments 
of consolation. Her prayer was brief, and seldom varied. 
“ Most Holy Virgin,” she said, “ help me not to love him,’* 
and sometimes she added, “ Give me courage to seek out Gra- 
jano, and to desire to find him.” But how often did her heart 
fail her, when she attempted to ofier this second petition! 


90 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Repeating continually these words, she sometimes found her 
soul all absorbed in Fieramosca, at the very moment her lips 
prayed for power to forget him. And then she sighed and 
wept, but, alas ! she discovered what was the deepest emotion 
of her heart. But this very day, however, by one of those 
strange fluctuations of our nature, she felt herself able at last 
to choose the path of duty. The thought of an illness that her 
failing health told her was near ; the thought of a death made 
terrible by the reproaches of conscience coming over her, in a 
moment of wavering, weighed down the balance, and deter- 
mined her to learn something of Grajano, and return to him at 
all hazards, if she could discover him. And had Fieramosca 
been present, she would have declared to him her resolution, 
without any hesitation. •“ But,” said she, rising from her knees 
to leave the church, this evening he will come, and he shall 
know it all.” 

When the chorus was finished, the nuns went silently out of 
the small door which opened on the court, and returned to 
their cells. Ginevra followed them. She entered a terrace, as 
pure and clean as a mirror, which encircled a small garden, in 
the centre of which there was a well covered with a small roof, 
which rested on four stone pillars. Traversing a long passage, 
she came out in a court behind. The lower side was formed 
by a small house, without a cloister, but separated from the 
rest of the building, and here all visitors were placed. Here 
Ginevra lodged with her companion, who had been rescued 
from the sea by Fieramosca. They occupied two or three 
rooms, which, according to the custom of convents, had no 
communication with each other, except by means of a com- 
mon hall. Entering the room where they were accustomed to 
pass the greater part of the day together, she found Zoraide 
occupied at her embroidery-frame, singing as she worked an 
Arabic ballad, full of those minor notes so common in the 
songs of the people of the east. She looked for a moment on 
the work, and then drew a sigh (it was a mantle of blue satin, 
embroidered with silver, they were working together for Fie- 
ramosca), and then she took her seat by a balcony shaded 
with vine-leaves, and looked towards Barletta. The sun was 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAELETTA. 


91 


already hid behind the hills of Puglia, but his fires still lingered 
on the vapor clouds that lay off on the bosom of heaven, and 
shone like goldfish swimming in a sea of fire. Their gorgeous 
image came up in long lines from the waters, ruflied here and 
there by the barks of the fishermen, which a light eastern 
breeze was bringing to the shore. Her eye was fixed on the 
Mole of the port, which was full in view, from which she had 
so often seen a light bark leap out upon the sea, and approach' 
the island. And now she looked more anxiously for the little 
boat than ever ; for she felt it would bring her a decision, and 
whatever that decision might be, it would in her present state 
be gain to her. But these moments of expectation seemed 
long and bitter. Would that Ettore were already there ! 
Would he had already heard those words, so hard to pro- 
nounce ! For if he should delay, or fail to come, will she have 
the resolution to pronounce them to-morrow ? 

A speck obscurely seen in the distance, hardly changing 
place, gradually approached the beach. In a quarter of an 
hour it had reached the land, and although it was indistinctly 
seen to be a boat with a single oarsman, Ginevra knew what 
it was, and felt her heart beat quicker. By a sudden revolu- 
tion of all her ideas, the possibility of revealing to him the 
purpose she had but a moment before felt irrevocably fixed, 
seemed to have fled from her for ever. She would willingly 
have seen that little boat turn back again, but no — on, on, it 
came ; it was already close to the island, for she could hear 
the oars dip, and leave the water. 

“ Zoraide, he’s come !” she exclaimed, turning to her com- 
panion who slightly raised her head, and replied only by a 
sign of her face, and her eyes again fell upon her work. 
Ginevra descended by a flight of steps cut in the rock, to the 
spot where the boat was to be moored, and reached the edge 
of the water just as Fieramosca laid his oars in the bottom^ and 
the prow struck the rock. 

But if Ginevra lacked the courage to declare her resolution. 
Fieramosca, who had still more important secrets to unfold, felt 
no better prepared to make his announcement. For a long 
time, far from the scene of the war in which Grajario had 


92 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


enlisted, he had received no intelligence of his fate. Some 
soldiers, who had returned from Romagna, either badly inform- 
ed, or changing the name, had told Ettore he was slain in 
battle. He felt too hastily inclined to believe the report, for he 
should have resolutely rejected all such rumors, till he had 
been convinced by indubitable evidence. But it seldom hap- 
pens we desire to see clearly when we apprehend a discovery 
fatal to ourselves ; he had therefore eluded the truth, and 
indulged in his belief down to that very day when his own 
eyes had finally, and in a single glance, undeceived him. He 
had returned to Barletta torn by the uiward struggle, whether 
or not he should reveal everything at once to Ginevra. If he 
did, it would separate him from her at once, and for ever ; and 
if he did not, he felt he would be guilty of wrong, and 
besides, how could he hope to conceal an event like this from 
her who had so long shared all his confidence ? 

In this state of conflict and uncertainty, he reached the 
island, and he had not yet fixed his purpose when he stood by 
the side of Ginevra. But being forced to decide yes or no, he 
fell upon the latter alternative for the moment, saying to him- 
self, there will be time to decide afterwards. 

“ I have come late this evening,” he said as he mounted the 
stairs, “ but great events have happened to-day, and I have 
news to tell thee.” \ 

“ News !” exclaimed Ginevra. “ Oh ! tell me is it good or 
bad .^” 

“ Good news ! and with the help of God, in a few days it 
shall be better still.” 

They now reached the lawn before the church. At the 
extreme verge where the rock shelved off into the sea, there 
was a low wall of protection, shaded by cypresses, in the cen- 
tre of which stood a wooden cross with rude stools around it 
Both of them sat down under the light of the moon, which-had 
already eclipsed the purple twilight, and Fieramosca began his 
narration. 

“ Rejoice, my Ginevra ! this has been a day of glory for Italy 
and for us; and if God withdraw not his smile from a just 
cause, it shall prove the beginning of brighter glory. But now 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


93 


is the hour for strength, and the day has come when thou must 
show thyself an heroic example of the women of Italy.” 

“ Tell me what it is,” she answered as she gazed earnestly in 
his face, as if to read beforehand the proof of courage he expect- 
ed from her. “ I am a woman I know, but I have resolution.” 

“ I know it, Ginevra, and I would sooner doubt the sun will 
rise to-morrow, than doubt thee * * and he narrated the 
challenge, explaining minutely its origin ; the visit to the French 
camp ; the return and the preparations making for the combat. 
And how bold were his words, and how deeply his love of 
country and glory were kindled ; and how much the presence 
of Ginevra brightened the flame, those readers know who have 
felt the pulse beat quicker, when they spoke of generous deeds 
face to face with a woman capable of the same exalted senti- 
ments. 

As Ettore went on with his narration, his enthusiasm, his 
descriptions and his manner growing more and more fervid, 
Ginevra breathed quicker, and her bosom, like a sail shaken by 
violent gusts of wind, heaved violently with the impetuous 
rush of feelings discordant but not unworthy of her ; and her 
eyes, which took their language from the words of Fieramosca, 
flashed with fire. When he finished, she laid her white deli- 
cate hand on the hilt of Ettore’s sword, and lifting her beaming 
face, she said, “ Oh ! had I too thy arm ! Could I but wield 
this blade which I can hardly raise, thou shouldst not go alone 
to the combat ! No ! and it would not be mine to say the 
Italians are victorious, but he is left on the field. Oh ! I know, 
I know, what I say, conquered I would never return — ” and here, 
struck by the thought of the approaching danger, she could no 
longer restrain her tears, and they fell in streams upon Ettore’s 
hand. 

“ For whom dost thou weep, Ginevra ? Dost thou wish for 
aught in the world this challenge had not been given ?” 

“ Oh ! No, Ettore ! never, never — Do me not this wrong,” 
and trying to check her tears she continued : “ I don’t weep 

* ♦ see * * I’ve done * * it was only for a moment.” And 

then she said with a smile which her eyelashes still wet made 
more t beautiful ; “ I wished to be too brave and talk about 


94 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


swords and battle, and I am punished for my folly — but I 
deserved it.” 

This last phrase was overheard by Zoraide, who came up 
with a basket of fruit, cakes, honey and other delicacies. She 
carried it on her left arm, and in her right hand she bore a 
flask of white wine. Her dress was made after the fashion of 
the Franks, but her choice of the most dazzling colors, and her 
capricious manner of arranging them, showed the taste of the 
barbarous country that gave her birth. But her head-dress 
was completely Eastern, and the folded scarf hung down on 
her breast. She had the high eyebrow, the oval contour ; and, 
if I dare say it, that brunette tint, slightly gold-tinged, which 
distinguishes the tribes around the Caucasus. In her amiable 
moods, sometimes flashed out rays of a savage nature, a fear- 
less frankness despising submission. She took the contents of 
her basket, and spread a collation on one of the seats on which 
she had laid a pure white napkin. 

“ Oh yes,” said Ettore gaily, to chase away the sad thoughts 
he read on the brow of Ginevra, “ let us be lighthearted while 
we can, and let the world roll on as it will.” And they tried 
to eat. 

“ The old proverb,” continued Fieramosca, “ says, one should 
not talk about death at the table. So we’ll say nothing of 
the challenge. We’ll talk about something joyful. We shall 
soon be in the midst of banquetings. Signor Gonzales has 
proclaimed a tournament, a bull-fight, comedies, and balls and 
dinners. It will be a scene of enchantment.” 

“ What does this mean ? And the French ? ” asked Ginevra. 

“ And the French ? They’ll be there too. A truce has been 
offered, and they’ll not be villains enough to refuse it. These 
f6tes are to be in honor of the arrival of Lady Elvira, the 
daughter of the great Captain ; and he, who loves her as he 
does his own eyes, is determined the fete shall be magnificent.” 

The questions of the two listeners now knew no limits ; and 
Ettore did his best to answer them, alternately replying to each, 
in the following manner:— but we shall leave the reader to 
guess the questions from the answers. 

“Beautiful! Perfectly beautiful, they all say; with hair 
which seems like threads of gold,” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


95 


“ She will arrive in a few days.” 

“ She had been left sick at Taranto ; and now she’s reco- 
vered, she rejoins her father.’* 

“ Does he love her ? Think that he has done for her what 
lie would never have done for himself ! In Taranto, exactly — 
you will have heard the Spanish troops mutinied because they 
were not paid ; and Inigo tells me it’s a miracle Gonzales is 
now alive ; for the whole of those devils gathered around him, 
with their brandished pikes. A certain Yciar, a captain of m- 
fantry, as Gonzales cried out he had no money, answered in 
a loud voice, using obscene and vile words, that his daughter 
(excuse me) could find it for him. He was silent; the tumult 
ceased, and everything was quiet during the night. The next 
morning they came out on the piazza, and what, think you, 
they saw ? This ribald Captain Yciar hangmg dead from his 
own window. And of those who had brandished their pikes 
around the great Captain’s breast, not a hah of their heads was 
touched. You see if he loves her ! ” 

And in all these little relations the hours had passed by, and 
it was already late. 

“ Now I must go,” said Fieramosca ; and rising from his 
seat he was accompanied by the two females, as he took his way 
slowly back to his boat. Ginevra descended with him to the foot 
of the rock, and Ettore gave an adieu, as he entered the bark, 
to Zoraide, who had remahied above. She hardly returned it, 
and disappeared. Ettore thought little of it, but said to Ginevra, 
“ She did not hear me — salute her for me. And now farewell ; 
God knows we shall meet with difficulty during these few days 
to come. But let it be so — we shall be able to do it in some 
manner.” 

His oars struck the water, and his little boat was off. Ginevra 
mounted the steps and stopped a long while on the siunrait, 
watching, as she thought on sadly, the two diverging streams 
of light that quivered from the wake of the receding bark. 

When the last trace of it had faded from the sea, she entered 
her chamber, and secured with two strong bolts her door for 
the night. 


CHAPTER IX. 


From the creation of the world birds have been caught by] 
the fowler in nearly the same snares ; and men have always 
been taken in the same nets. But the most dangerous, per -J 
haps, of all these snares, is the one which calls our self-love U 
into play. i 

Don Michele understood this perfectly; and knowing the j 
vulnerable side of the Podesta’s nature, had, by a few strokes, 1 
got him into his hands. When he left the ante -chamber of Gon- \ 
zales, to find the servant of the comune, his brain was filled t 
with a thousand wild fancies, and his joy was so unbounded, he ' 
could hardly understand, himself, how he had stumbled upon i 
a person Avho promised him so many wonders. The suspi- * 
cion, it’s true, occasionally flashed on him of his being an im- 
postor ; but having no contemptible idea of his own powers of i 
penetration, he said within himself, like all whose lives are i 
passed in being duped, “ Deceive me if you can.” 

He was punctual to his engagement at the inn, but he had 
nothing to communicate to Don Michele, for the servant, who 
was in his opinion so wonderful a scrutinizer, had promised 
much, done little, and discovered nothing. 

At supper that evening his wife and servant-maid soon dis- 
covered something important was boiling in his brain, and 
they attacked him with so furious a volley of questions the 
poor man could hardly eat a mouthful in peace. It was 
wonderful he did not let everything out all at once, for it was 
harder for him to keep a secret, particularly if he thought it 
could increase his reputation, than for a person to keep from i 
scratching himself who has the itch. In fact something had 
already escaped him. “ Eh ! I know it ! * * If you only 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


97 


knew ! * * if a certain affair of mine only goes well !” and 
at last alarmed at the danger all at onci of revealing the matter, 
he got up from the table, and snatching up a light, went 
off to bed. 

That night seemed to him a century. At last morning came, 
and he dressed himself in haste, and went to a barber’s shop 
in the piazza, where Don Michele had promised to meet him. 
He seated himself on the bench of the shop where every morn- 
ing the notary, the doctor, the apothecary, and two or three 
others who constituted the head pictures of Barletta, were 
sure to assemble. He crossed his legs with one foot mode- 
rately raised into the air, his left arm was lying across his 
breast, and in the hand his right elbow was resting, with the 
fingers of the other he was making a drum of his chin, as he 
looked busily first on one side and then on another, and last 
of all into the air to catch some sign of his friend. The apothe- 
cary, the notary, and the rest of the company, had more than 
once said, “ Early risen. Signor Podesta,” but finding they had 
their trouble for their pains, for he hardly made any reply, 
they kept at a respectful distance, and in an under voice one 
of them said to the rest, “ What the deuce is in the wind this 
morning ?” Don Litterio let them talk on and kept silent, for 
he could command two faces when necessary — one full of 
smiles and obsequiousness towards his superiors in rank, the 
other just as full of arrogance and stiffness towards those who 
were below him ; and this, as everybody knows, is the precious 
adornment heaven is pleased to bestow upon all the asses in 
the universe. He had passed half an hour in this manner 
when he heard a voice at his shoulders : 

“ Excellency ! * * Signor Podesta * * * begging 
your gracious pardon * * if you would be served * * 
they were picked this morning with the dew on.” He turned 
and saw the gardener of S. Ursula, Gennaro Rafamillo, who 
offered him a tenth part of a basket of cherries he came every 
morning to sell with other fruit in the piazza. He knew from 
experience this tribute would save him from all trouble of the 
market tax in selling his fruits. 

“ I have something else in my head besides thy cherries,” 
5 


98 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


answered Don Litterio. But after examining the basket, and 
inflating his cheeks, puffing out by degrees the wind he had 
gathered, he assumed an air of noble patronage, and taking out 
three or four vine-leaves, he spread them down on the bench, 
in the form of a plate, and laid out a fine pile of the cherries 
and began to eat. 

“ They axe good, eh ! Tjrue, isn’t it ? I took some of them 
last night to, Madonna, and she told me she had never seen 
finer.” 

“ And who may this Madonna be ?” 

“ Madonna Ginevra ; the lady who inhabits the forestiera, and 
they say she is a very noble lady of Naples, and has, I don’t 
know if it be a brother or a husband here in the service of 
Sig. Prospero, who comes to visit her almost every day.” * * * 

The gardener had evidently begun a long story, for lacon- 
ism was not one of his dominant qualities. But Don Michele 
had in the mean time come up and was standing unobserved 
behind the Podesta. 

“ Here we are, Sig. Podesta,” said he, slapping him on the 
shoulder. “ Pve an inkling this fellow could put us in the way 
— let me manage matters a little.” * * And without waiting 

for ceremony, he began to cross-question Gemiaro, and soon 
discovered he was really on the track of Ginevra. The thread 
was in his hand, and to a man of his stamp all the rest was 
moonshine. 

To enable him to gain admission to the convent, examine the 
ground, and arrange matters to get Ginevra into his hand, he 
said the Podesta could be made of no little service. It was 
only necessary to win his confidence so entirely, that every 
vestige of suspicion of the rectitude of his intentions should 
be obliterated from his brain. He took him aside and said to 
him : — 

“We must have a little talk together. Wait for me at the 
inn of the Sun, and in the mean time I’ll see if this fellow can 
describe to me the young man who so often visits Ginevra.” 

Don Litterio accordingly set out for the inn, and conducting 
the gardener to the station where the guards were changed, 
which was crowded with officers and soldiers, he asked : 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


99 


“ Is he among them ?” 

Geimaro looked about a little, and seeing Fieramosca, he 
said : — 

“ It’s him.” 

Don Michele at last set his eyes upon the man he was in 
search of. Five minutes after he was with the Podesta at the 
inn, which was now empty, and they sat down by a table, 
face to face, with glasses and a bottle of Greek wine between 
them. 

' Don Michele, with a very modest face, thus began the’ con- 
versation : 

“ The discovery is made. But before we go any further, I 
must say a couple of words to you. Don Litterio, I’ve roved 
round the world, and make a profession of knowing a fine man 
at first sight, and from the slight intercourse we have had 
together, I set your head down for one whose superior can’t 
be found.” 

The Podesta’s countenance plainly showed he swallowed 
the compliment, and he signified as much. 

“No, no! compliments aside * * T say what I think. You 
don’t know me yet. If I thought the contrary, I’d out with it 
Signor Podesta, have patience with me — but your brain is a 
hot one. If I were an imi)ostor, I would seek some other 
coadjutor. But as I pretend to be as honest as any other man, 
come who may. I’m always ready to deal with men, who, like 
you, keep their eyes open. Now, I’m going to tell you all, and 
you’ll have something more than words to give faith to — you’ll 
see facts, and this will show you you are dealing with an 
, honest man.” 

Here he began to read off one of his romances. He had been 
a great sinner, and to obtain pardon, had made a pilgrimage to 
the Holy Sepulchre. A hermit of Mount Lebanon had finally 
absolved him, enjoining, as a penance, that he should for 
seven years wander about the world, and whenever he found 
an opportunity of doing a good deed, whatever H might be, he 
was to do it at the cost even of his life — willing always to live 
poor and humble, tie had, therefore, endeavored to possess 


100 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


mankind of the science and light he had acquired in his long 
journeys through Persia, Syria, and Egypt. 

“ Now,” said he, “ you will understand the reason why I 
am so anxious to deliver your friend from that devouring pas- 
sion, which may, if not cured, end in the eternal damnation of 
his soul. The female in question is, without doubt, the 
Madomia Ginevra of S. Ursula. With you it rests to bring us 
together. You may fear I am a deceiver ; and you may fear to 
mtroduce one you do not know into that sacred place ; and 
you have a thousand reasons.” 

Don Litterio here seemed a little disturbed. 

“ Noi I repeat it, you have a thousand reasons to fear. No 
man bears on his face an indubitable seal of honesty — and, 
alas ! the world is filled with wrong-doers ! But when I show 
you that, with the help of God, I have only to look on the earth 
to wrench forth treasures from its bowels — to stop the fury of a 
cannon-ball in its flight, and execute other things esteemed 
impossible, which you will see me do ; all the fruit going to you 
without my touching a single grain, for I content myself with the 
mite which sustains my poor life, you’ll be forced to exclaim — 
‘ Here is one, who might make himself rich, and live in luxury, 
but he is poor and lives a life of fatigue ; therefore, what he 
declares is true — nor can his integrity with justice be ques- 
tioned. Two words and I’ve done. Many have blessed the 
day they saw me, and you may be one of them. Think of it, 
and decide soon. The penance I am yet to work out, compels 
me to rove the world without stopping in any place more than 
one week.” 

This speech, to which the Podesta listened with his mouth 
wide open, without daring to breathe loud, made him ashamed 
of himself for having conceived an evil thought against the 
speaker. Nevertheless, to play the wise man still he replied, 
that if he could see some of the proofs of which he spoke, he 
would lend him any aid in his power. On this point they were 
agreed, and parted with the understanding that, as soon as 
possible, Don Michele would show himself, and, in the mean- 
time, he was to resort to his spells to discover in what part of 
the neighborhood of Barletta treasures were buried. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


101 


Having thus won over the Podesta, and seeing his plot had 
succeeded to his liking, he began to prepare everything for 
springing his mine. He hunted up Boscherino, and informed 
him his aid was necessary in the service of the Duke. He was 
one of those men who trembled at the very name of Valentino, 
and without knowing anything of the nature of the service 
required, he answered — “ I’m ready.” Don Michele gave him 
no indication of his desire any farther than to tell him — “ Wait 
for me beyond the gate, on the side of the city which looks out 
towards Saint Ursula” (the truce between the two armies, ac- 
cepted by the French Captain, allowed the besieged free inter- 
course with the surrounding country). 

Boscherino was on the spot at the time, as punctually as 
his guide, who came up carrying under his arm a dress for 
disguise. Whoever would wish to follow them, must track 
them, along the sea coast a mUe beyond the bridge which 
unites the island to the main land. Here they turned to the 
left, and threading the winding paths that conducted through 
a deserted valley they entered an ancient church, abandoned to 
ruin, which had many years served only as a cemetery. But 
in order not to repeat this journey, we will wait and make it 
under the shadow of night, and for doing it we crave the con- 
descension of the reader. We will only say, that about an 
hour before sundown Don Michele appeared in the piazza 
unattended. He accosted the Podesta, who was in the shop 
of the barber, and whispered in his ear : 

“ The place is found. To-night, as the hour of nine strikes. 
I’ll be at your door. Don’t keep me waiting.” 

And, in fact, at that hour and that moment Don Michele was 
at his post, and the Podestk came out. He shut the door care- 
fully, to escape observation; silently and cautiously they 
skulked through the dark lanes (for there were no lanterns), 
and soon they were without the city. Straight on they went, 
and when they heard ten o’clock sound from the castle, in deep 
tones, almost stifled by the wind, they had already passed 
Saint Ursula, and were gradually approaching the deserted 
church, as they wound along the shore of the sea. It was a 
desolate and sterile plain, over which a few dwarfish shrubs 


102 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


grew, that only made it seem the more like a wilderness. The 
narrow path they followed was soon lost in the sand, where, 
at . each step, they sank half up to their knees. At intervals 
they found the dried up beds of torrents filled with gravel and 
stones, worn smooth by the flowing of water; but the two 
pedestrians, who were plodding on their difficult way, were in 
very different states of mind. 

Don Michele, accustomed to walking more by night than by 
day, led the way with a sure step. The other, who perhaps 
during his whole life never found himself twice outside the 
gates of the city when the Ave-Maria sounded, followed on, 
breathing with difficulty, looking sharply around him, and 
cursing the hour he left his own house. And, to tell the truth, 
it was an unlucky hit for him. His fancy was hurrying on 
from one frightful imagination to another till he trembled with 
a thousand apprehensions ; and not last or least, he was far 
from his own house in the night time, and alone with a man 
who, after all, he knew nothing about. 

Nevertheless, every once in a little while he tried to rally 
himself up, and he hummed away, in a low voice, three or 
four syllables (but for the fifth he i.ad no breath) — then he 
fancied he heard a strange noise among the bushes ; and by 
the dim light of the moon, struggling through the clouds, he 
thought he saw at a distance a crouching man, who, on a 
nearer approach, turned out to be the trunk of a tree or a rock. 
The next moment he conjured up some strange form or vision 
of departed souls, and tremblingly muttered a requiem or a 
deprofundis. Such was the pleasant shade of his reveries as 
they reached the sombre grove, which sheltered the still more 
gloomy church. 

Over the door were painted several skeletons, standing up- 
right, with mitres, diadems and crowns on their heads, and 
holding in their hands falling scrolls, on which were written 
Latin verses like the following: Beati mortui qui in Domino 
moriuntur. Miseremini, mei, ^c. .- and although, when the moon 
broke through the opening clouds, the inscriptions could be 
read with difficulty, these figures, which seemed just like the 
dead, were sufficient, alone, to produce the desired effect. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


103 


Don Michele opened a lantern, and prepared to commence 
their explorations of this home of the dead. The Podestk had 
stopped short some paces behind, and when he saw the de- 
sign of his companion, there issued from his mouth a here ? so 
pitiful, and so charged with consternation, it called a smile to 
the thin and livid lips of Don Michele. 

“ All your presence of mind is necessary now. Signore Po- 
desta ; for in places like this fear brings little fruit, and very 
often ends in something dreadful. He who has guided you 
here works in the name of God, and to show you that his 
power alone can bring the souls of the departed from the fu- 
ture world, let us begin by prayer.” 

Kneeling down he began to string together miserere and 
dies ilia, to which Don Litterio gave the responses as well as he 
could; vowing if he ever came out of that place a live man 
he would light a large candle every Saturday, at Saint Fosca, 
and fast the Vigils of the Dead. The prayer was finished, and 
they arose. An old door, half rotted, which hardly supported 
itself on its hinges, swung open, and nearly fell to the ground, 
at the touch of Don Michele, and they entered, picking their 
way among the ruins which obstructed their passage. 

The pavement was strewn with the bones of the dead. A 
coffin, which stood in an angle, worm-eaten and mouldering 
away, and two or three spades, which had (God knows when) 
been used to inter the dead, made up the furniture of the place. 
Several hundred owls, roused by the light of the lantern, began 
to fly screeching about, flapping their wings against the walls, 
and sought refuge in an old Gothic tower, whose base stood by 
the side of the large altar. 

The place, the solitude, the late hour, were such, if not to 
arouse fear, at least to fill the mind of the bravest man with 
deathly fancies ; and poor Don Litterio, who, when the sun 
was high in the heavens, had thought of this moment with 
composure, now found, while it was passing, the important 
difference between words and deeds. 

He stood upon the bones of dead men, which crumbled under 
his feet, gazing on the walls green with humidity, and in many 
places still covered with ancient pictures, and standing still in 


104 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


the midst of it all with his hands clasped together, he awaited 
the end of this infernal scene. 

Don Michele laid on the ground a small bundle he had 
brought with him, from which he took a conjuror’s wand, and 
throwing over him a black garment covered with cabalistic 
figures, he began with his wand to describe a circle in the air, 
with a thousand ceremonies. He then made an opening in it, 
and commanded the Podesta to enter with his left foot forward. 
Putting a talisman into his hand, he began to mumble over 
some Latin, Greek and Hebrew words, calling on a hundred 
demons in the name of God the Eternal, alternately raising and 
lowering his voice, and during the frequent pauses the echo 
prolonged itself under the vault. Occasionally a frightened 
owl, blinded by the light, came flapping by the face of the 
Podesta, who cowered and shivered as if the cold chills of 
death were on him, trembling with the horrid apprehension, 
that the next moment the souls of the skeletons painted over 
the door, would burst on his vision : he fell on his knees, and 
prayed God in his mercy to render vain all the conjurations of 
his terrible companion. 

While he was thus kneeling imploring for mercy, he felt a 
tap on his shoulder, and raising his eyes he saw an angel 
under the tower of the church, surrounded by a livid light, in a 
human form, covered with a flowing shroud, used only to wrap 
around the dead, slowly rising from one of the vaults. The 
spectre remained immovable, and we need not say how the 
Podestli remained. Don Michele bent over his ear and whis- 
pered : 

“ Bear up ! courage ! now is the moment to show all your 
fortitude ! quick now, ask for all you desire.” It was all of no 
avail. The Podestk could neither move, speak nor breathe. 
Don Michele then addressed several words in an unknown 
tongue to the spectre, who answered by slowly raising an arm 
and pointing towards a tomb half uncovered. 

“ Do you understand ? The vision tells us, there we shall 
find florins to enrich us for life.” 

But the Podestk gave no sign. Seeing there was no hope of 
moving him, Don Michele advanced towards the sepulchre, 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


105 


and easily descended. In a few seconds he came forth with 
an iron box, covered with dirt, and approaching the Podesta, 
who could not yet move a finger, poured out before him a pile 
of gold, or at least what seemed to be such, but their glitter as 
they fell, had no power to bring the breath back to the body of 
the poor man who had worked so hard to get them. 

The last coin had hardly struck the pile where the rest had 
fallen, when the door burst open with a crash, and a troop of 
fifteen or twenty wild looking brigands, armed with pikes and 
halberds, rushed in upon them, and held their arms to the 
breasts and throats of Don Michele and his companion. The 
former had scarcely time to lay his hand on the hilt of his 
sword, before he felt four or five pikes pressing against his 
doublet, and some of them entering his fiesh ; he stood per- 
fectly still, for he knew if he stirred he was a dead man. 

The Podesta had already been so frightened, that this new 
peril produced on him no visible effect. He remained as they 
found him, with eyes distorted, his head sunk on his breast, 
his hands clasped together in spasmodic convulsions, till the 
nails of his dry bony fingers had cut through the skin, and in 
a suffocated voice, he murmured, “ Oh kill me not, for I am in 
mortal sin !”* 

In the confusion, the lantern which had been overturned 
threw its light upon this strange group, who stood still a 
moment, to see if their captives could, or would, defend them- 
selves ; and they seemed to be made up of that desperate class 
of men, who in those tirrles were called adventurers, or soldiers 
of fortune. Now they are called assassins, and they were so 
then really, but the above mentioned title was particularly 
applied to bands of soldiers, who had deserted their standards, 
and united under a leader to commit wild depredations. Some 
of them were armed with breastplates or corselets, others with 
iron helmets, some with swords, poniards or knives, and many 
wore cavaliers’ caps, decked with plumes and ribbons, and 

* This plea for sparing his life, has even in our own times great 
force with the brigands of the Campagna of Rome.’ The writer of 
these pages knows a man who in this same manner escaped death, 
which otherwise seemed inevitable. 


106 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


nearly every one bore upon his breast, or head, the image of 
a Madonna, Many, instead of shoes, wore sandals of goat- 
skin, which facilitated their flights into the mountains. Of 
their faces we need not speak. In the light of the lantern, 
with their long beards, and moustaches tangled and unshorn, 
they looked like fiends incarnate. 

One of them, throwing to the ground the halberd he held to 
the throat of the Podesta, stripped him and his companion of 
the arms they carried at their sides, and tore open their gar- 
ments to see if they had others concealed. 

While this tumult was going on, the spectre, disrobed of his 
winding-sheet, had become a man of this world, and seeing 
he had no time to lose had taken refuge in the belfry, and 
seated on the cap of a pillar, hugging the wall, waited his time 
to scamper ; and although he could not be seen through the 
darkness, he could himself observe clearly everything going 
on in the church. 

In the mean time the chief of the brigands, who was a young 
man about seventeen years old, but of a robust and terrific 
aspect, bearing a scar which extended entirely across his fore- 
head, and raised his eyebrows more than an inch, treated the 
Podesta to a lusty kick in the reins, to help him to his feet, and 
give him the use of his tongue. A more effectual remedy 
could not have been applied to bring him to his senses ; he 
raised himself without waiting for the second dose, and taken 
back into a corner with Don Michele, they were bound fast, 
and guarded by some of the troop, while the rest gathered up 
the gold, which they coimted by the light of the lamp. This 
done, they put it in a leathern purse the leader carried at his 
belt, and the whole company left the church with their prison- 
ers between them. With the courtesy so peculiar to that class 
of gentlemen, they informed them to make quicker tracks, if 
they were not anxious their hinder parts should cultivate a 
closer intimacy with the points of their poniards. 

After hurrying on for about half a mile over wild ground 
through deserted places, where no trace of a path could be 
discovered, they stopped, and closely blindfolded their two 
captives. Fear had found a voice for the Podestk and he 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


107 


begged for mercy, crying like a child; this spectacle was a 
source of some amusement to the brigands, and they let him 
cry on. 

But Don Michele, who now began to apprehend the worst, 
muttered between his teeth, “ By God, it ’s all over,” and he 
tried to commence a negotiation with them for his ransom; 
but the first word had hardly escaped his lips, before his 
mouth was shut by the blow of a fist, which sent two of his 
teeth down his throat. Finding he could neither speak nor 
see, he determined at least to keep his ears open. He heard 
them disputing about the division of the money, and the fate 
of their prisoners ; they spoke too of the ransom, and who 
of the two seemed likely to be able to pay the largest sum. 
A.mong the numerous voices, and the diverse dialects (all 
ftalian however), he distinguished one whose accent was 
foreign, and apparently German. But at this moment he felt 
several hands laid on him, and he was suddenly thrown upon 
the shoulders of two men, who separated from their compa- 
nions, and started off in a direction, and for a destination, of 
which he was entirely ignorant. 

The journey lasted over an ho^, with stoppages at intervals, 
during which, the personage they bore, was not very gently 
deposited on the ground, to give the bearers time to rest them- 
selves. During this journey, the terror natural to the bravest 
man of being slain by the brigands like a dog, the cords which 
bound him, and the excruciating pain of lying on the sharp 
points of the armor, that covered the shoulders on which he 
lay, began to make the joke rather a serious one to Don 
Michele. At last they stopped, and he heard a large door 
creaking on its hinges, and they entered, and closed it firm 
behind them. Here Don Michele was unbound, and being 
conducted a few paces forward, his eyes were unblinded, and 
he found himself in a room dimly lighted by the moon, which 
struggled through a ventilator. In one of the walls there was 
a low narrow door covered with iron bolts and locks. It was 
opened, and a voice said to Don Michele, “ In with you.” He 
bowed down to enter, and while he was feeling for the stairs 
with one of his feet before him, a blow dealt out against the 


108 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


hollow of his back with the heel of a pike, caused him to 
reach the bottom of the stair-case so much sooner than was 
agreeable, he would probably have had some difficulty in tell- 
ing accurately the number of steps he had passed. The 
grating of a huge bolt on the outside advised Don Michele that, 
through the door, there was little hope of escaping. 

The cell was pitch dark. He began to explore his mouth, 
which had now grown exceedingly painful from the blow he 
had received. His hands were wet when he took them out 
(with blood most likely), and he made up his mind ever after- 
wards, instead of thirty -two teeth, to calculate upon the active 
service of only thirty. 

“ Had the devil choked thee and thy father, as was his 
duty, these would never have been sown on the sand,” said 
he, thinking of the fellow who had done him the service. 

But he tried to pluck up all his courage, and felt about with 
his hands to find out where he was. He perceived a faint 
light coming through an aperture from above, and he thought 
he heard the beating of the waves of the sea against the walls. 
Moving his feet round he discovered in one corner a heap of 
damp straw, and throwing himself down on it, he awaited the 
rest of his fortune. 


CHAPTER X.- 


The reader has before this without doubt divined that the 
spectre was no other than the Capo Squadra Boscherinao. It 
remains for him to discover how the band of brigands happened 
along so timely to put an end to the well-ordered enchant- 
ments of Don Michele. It happened in the following manner : 

Don Litterio kept a young and beautiful maid in his house, 
which had given some persons doubts about the purity of his 
conjugal faith. But the maiden, who troubled herself very lit- 
tle about the sighs of her quinquagenarian lover, was not so 
insensible to those of a stable-boy, who belonged to the house- 
hold. The chain of their love conducted the secret of the 
Podesta (that he was going out that night to dig up a treasure), 
from mouth to mouth, till it reached the groom. He had seve- 
ral friends in the company of Pietraccio (for such was the 
name this cut-throat bore), and he managed matters so, that 
if the treasure was to be discovered, a part of it at least should 
find its way into his own pocket instead of going entire into 
that of his master. 

Before therefore we return to Don Michele, it is necessary to 
inform the reader somewhat of the scene where the events we 
are about to relate tobk place. 

At the head of the bridge, which led to the little island of S. 
Ursula, had been erected a square massive tower, similar to *iie 
one on the bridge Samentario, which goes out from Rome 
towards Sabina. The entrance was closed by an immence gate 
with a 'portcullisy which could be let down when necessary, 
and a drawbridge. A winding stair case led up to the two 
stories above, where the commander and his guard were 
lodged, and on the top was a terrace fortified with battlements. 


no 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


from which were bristling the muzzles of two pieces of artil 
lery. 

The abbess of the convent, invested with baronial rights, 
kept stationed there a guard of eighty infantry, composed of 
pikes and arquebuses, commanded by a German by the name 
of Martino Schwarzenbach, a soldier of fortune ; who found it 
more agreeable to lounge around that old tower well paid and 
better fed than to fret away his life in the camp, or risk it in 
battle, where he had learned that the delight of maiming and 
stripping other people, was often disturbed by some stray ball 
of an arquebus, or the point of a halberd. His three predomi- 
nant passions were to live far off from bustle, and to steal and 
afterwards to drink as much Puglia wine as his stomach could 
well contain, and in this respect a common-sized butt was not 
to be mentioned the same day. 

These inclinations were strongly depicted on his face, the 
first two in a pair of eyes filled with avidity and cowardice, 
in pretty nearly equal proportions; the last, in one of the 
brightest sorts of Vermillion, which seemed to have abandoned 
the rest of his face to a striking paleness, and centred in his 
cheeks and nose ; a thin beard of the color of a goat’s, pur- 
ple lips, and a body that would have borne well the fatigues of 
war, had it not been reduced by debauchery before his fortieth 
year, to an enervated feebleness it should not have shown at 
the age of seventy. 

His duty was reduced to shutting the gate at night. The 
armies that were carrying on the war in the vicinity had no 
hostile intentions against the convent ; there was no need of 
guarding agamst them, and the brigands who scoured the 
neighborhood would never have dared to assail a strong tower 
guarded by eighty men, and mounted by two pieces of artillery. 
But Martino Schwarzenbach had still another reason for not 
allowmg his tranquil slumbers to be disturbed, although sur- 
rounded by these bands of cut-throats. He had bound himself 
to the abbess to guard the conventy but he did not, on this 
account, consider himself bound to be the guardian and de- 
fender of the florins, the ducats, and the estates of the dwellers 
of the neighborhood, or of those who passed that way. As he 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Ill 


could not, however, in broad daylight, betake himself to fish- 
ing in other men’s ponds, he had (to use a modern phrase) 
taken an interest in the capital employed by Pietraccio. He 
gave him a stout lift with his men when necessity demanded, 
and he hid money, property, and even persons, when he 
thought there was any prospect of a large reward. All these 
operations were so cautiously conducted, however, that his 
victims laid the blame upon everybody rather than Martino, 
whose only bad quality was the reputation of being the greatest 
guzzler in the whole country. 

Into his hands had fallen Don Michele ; who had passed the 
night in restless fancies, without the faintest idea where he 
was. At daybreak, he heard the three reports of artillery, 
which sounded every morning from the castle of Barletta. He 
rose, and climbed as well as he could to the small aperture 
where the light entered, but the outside was so deeply shaded 
by ivy, he caught only a faint glimpse of the sea. He remained 
looking out for a moment, and saw a boat pass by laden with 
fruit ; he recognized in the oarsman the gardener of S. Ursula. 

He was now almost certain he was in the bottom of the 
tower which defended the convent. 

He had hardly descended from the place of his discovery, 
when his prison opened, and he was conducted up the steps 
by two stout soldiers into the room of the Captain. The latter 
had just risen, and was sitting half dressed on the side of his 
bed, with a table before him, covered with the confused re- 
mains of his last night’s debauch. The large beams which 
extended round the walls, were covered with pikes and bayon- 
eted arquebuses, breast-plates and armor of every description. 

He looked at Don Michele as he entered, with an eye which 
seemed to find no little difficulty in raising the red drooping 
lid which covered it, and drumming away on the floor with 
one of his slippers he said to the new comer : 

“ Thou shouldst know. Monsieur what’s thy name, that he 
who passes a night at my inn pays one hundred gold florins 
often livres each, of the Florentine mint, or if he likes better 
that of S. Marco ; otherwise one end of a cord round his neck, 
with a stone tied to the other, and a bath in the sea, save 


112 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


him the trouble of paying the bill. Which wouldst thou like 
best ?” 

“ That which will' be best for me will not be the best for 
thee,” answered Don Michele boldly. “ Last night thou took’st 
us two, but we were not alone in the church. There was one 
man thou didst not see, but he saw thee and he knows thee, 
and at this hour in Barletta thy villainy is all known ; and as 
for that bath in the sea it will soon be thy turn to try and not 
mine, unless thou canst find out some way to keep three or 
four hundred Catalonians and Romans from battering down 
the gate of this tower to their feet, or get them to hang thee 
from thy own battlements instead of sending thee to scrape 
acquaintance with the water, which, if I can judge from what 
I see, thou wouldst taste for the first time.” 

This idea was suggested to him by the sight of a half barrel 
the German kept at the head of his bed, in lieu of saints and 
crucifixes. 

This bold reply stirred the blood of the Conestabile, who 
pulled his cap down over his forehead and said : 

“ If thou thinkest thou art dealing with a child and canst 
intimidate me by thy brags, I give thee timely notice that I 
don’t believe what thou sayest, and if thy Albanians or any 
devil thou hast named did come, I have the means of not being 
afraid of them, or the sea, or the battlements, and I hardly 
know what keeps me from drawing the hemp on thee this 
minute. But I love better after all the jingle of thy florins 
than the cawing of the ravens who would come to pick 
out thy eyes. Therefore to business. Here are the im- 
plements for writing— scribble something that will bring the 
money, and when it comes take thyself away with thy bad 
marmers where thou likest best.” 

Without showing any hurry about an answer, Don Micheleji^ 
looked at him with the smile of a man who has no fear, but ; 
deciding within himself whether he shall take it all in earnest * 
or as a joke. The Captain’s ire was just ready to burst forth ^ 
with more effectual weapons than words, but the answer = 
withheld it. 

“ Conestabile, florins please thee, thou art no enemy to wine. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


113 


and on the whole I take thee to be a devilish good sort of a 
fellow. In fact a good soldier ought to be so — thief, tapster, 
and not overstocked with devotion. Now what the devil 
makes thee so uncivil ? Hark ye ! I’m determined we 
shall be good friends after all. True, thou hast forced me to 
lodge at thy inn, and makest me pay pretty dear for the 
lodging, and were it not * * but no matter, I excuse tliee, 
and will make this a luckier hit than thou hadst any reason to 
expect.” 

Here he turned round, and casting a withering glance on the 
two fellows who had brought him up from the dungeon, and 
still held him by the arms : 

“ Tell me, boys, have you nothing better to do than to stand 
here at my ribs as the two thieves did at the side of our Lord ? 
Go, my sweet fellow,” he said, wresting his arm from one and 
giving him a slap on the face, and liberating himself from the 
other in the same way, “ Go, go, thou too, no need of thy help. 
I can stand alone. Go and keep an eye out on the road to 
Barletta and see if anybody is coming. I’ve a couple of words 
to say to his lordship. You see I’m unarmed, and I don’t 
intend to make a breakfast of your master, for the devil’s stom- 
ach couldn’t digest him.” 

The soldiers, no less than Martino, were struck dumb by this 
sangfroid, and they looked their master in the face to see what 
he thought about it. He gave them a nod, and they left the 
room. But, finding himself alone, he thought it prudent to get 
on his feet and keep his guest at a good sword’s length distance. 

“ Conestabile ! thou hast demanded a iiundred florins for 
ray ransom. I did not think I was worth so little ; and to 
teach thee how to prize men of my stamp better in future. I’ll 
give thee two hundred. (The German opened his eyes, and 
•his mouth watered.) Yes, two hundred ; but then, this would 
• all be nothing. If thou could’st but serve me with zeal and 
jjj good faith, I would like to bring thee to a fortune that would 
^ open thy eyes. Eh ! but it’s useless — thou should’st be wide- 
awake, know when to speak and when to hold thy tongue ; in 
a word, not to wear that parsnip-face and a set of eyes that 
look like baby-pap floating in oil.” 


114 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Martino beholding such self-assurance thought he was dream- 
ing, and a thousand ideas rushed into his brain of havuig per- 
haps some prince or grand personage before him in disguise. 
But unable to satisfy himself about anything, and not a little 
galled to find himself so little respected in-his own stronghold, 
he replied : — 

“ But in the name of God or the Devil, who begot you — who 
are you ? — what do you want ? I’m sick of this stuff, and I’m 
a jest for no man — ” 

“ Not so fast — not so fast, and with good grace ; for, if I get 
riled I say not another word, and then worse for you. Know^ 
then, * * *” 

Here a soldier entered and interrupted Don Michele, saying : 

“ Conestabile ! a cloud of dust is rising off over the road to 
Barletta, like cavalry coming ; at least, so says Sandro, who 
sees more than all of us.” The German started, and eyed his 
prisoner, who laughed maliciously as he went on — 

“ I told you so before ! But don’t fear ; judgment, and all will 
end well. Go,” he said to the servant, “ and if there’s any news 
let us know. Well, as I was saying, know that there is in this 
convent a person (kept by those I need not name), who would 
gladly escape and go free in the world without being eternally 
surrounded by hoods and crosses. This calls for light fingers. 

If some night a boat happens to come along under the walls, 
with five or six stout young fellows to take her off— and the 
Conestabile hears a dog bark, or some delicate voice cry mercy, 
— (Ah ! but you know too well the women always scream two 
hours before you touch them) — don’t be disturbed, think it was 
only a dream, and turn over on the other side and snore away, 
and this little service will bring you, as though they came from 
Heaven, five hundred new sequins of Saint Mark ; or, if you 
like better those of the lily — and perhaps, afterwards, a better^ 
station than you have here in this tucked-up barrack.” 

Poor Martino, who, with all his vices, had the good quality i 
of being faithful to his employer, was so elated by this tempt- 
ing bribe that he found himself on the very brink of losing his 
fidelity. But the law which has decided there shall be nothing 
in this world absolutely good nor absolutely bad, saved him 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


115 


from total shipwreck ; and he replied with an intention of 
showing himself offended, but his words, after all, smacked 
rather of surprise than indignation. 

“ Martin Schwarzenbach has served Milan, Venice, and the 
Emperor in his time, and he never betrayed his master. The 
Abbess of S. Ursula has paid him, in advance, up to all Decem- 
ber, 1503. If your lordship is some * I know not what 
♦ some Signore * * or some agent of an Italian Prince, and 
wish to employ me, very well, we will talk about it. I’ll show 
you my company — they are 50 pikes, and 30 arquebuses. All 
from twenty to forty years old ; and, as for their armor, there’s 
not the tongue of a buckle missing. If we can settle the prelimi- 
naries on the 1st of January, 1504, we’ll come, if you like, and 
)nake an assault on the convent — and we’ll take them all of!', 
even to the cook in the kitchen. But before that time, while I 
have a charge of powder left, and a blade to my hand, no man 
shall touch a hair on the head of a nun or a novice.” 

‘‘ And do you think, Sig. Martino, I don’t know the duty of 
a man in your station ? Think you I’d have the face to propose 
to you a deed of villainy ? You don’t know me. The person 
in question is neither nun nor novice, and has no more to do 
with the convent than that half-barrel you keep at the head of 
your bed there ! Why, God bless you, and easy it is to see you 
are an honest man, and know that when one can go at his 
convenience, he is a fool to go on the run ; and when he can 
sleep under cover with half a glass of good Greek, he’s a mad- 
man who sleeps out of doors with a cold stomach. When he 
can make 500 florins without taking any pains, honorably in 
the world’s eyes, and virtuously in the sight of God, he ought to 
bethink himself that such luck falls not into the mouth every 
day, like flower-figs. Now, if you say, we’ll consider ourselves 
understood, and you must determine quick, for that troop of 
cavalry can’t be far ofi'.” 

The virtue of Martino, like that of the great majority of man- 
kind, was capable of transition, and he replied: — “Oh! well, 
when the nuns are left out of the question, it becomes quite 
another affair.” 

Don Michele stood thinking whether he should then reveal 


116 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


to Martino the name of the female he wished to carry off, and 
for some time made no reply. A noisy quarrel between two 
soldiers at the door put a sudden stop to their conversation. 

“ May the devil strangle thee, cursed hunchback — there’s one 
there who ought to be ; and the Conestabile has other fish to 
fry than to hear thy bawling.” 

Thus cried out one of the soldiers as he tried to stop a little 
hunchbacked woman, whose eyes were the color of mother-of- 
pearl, fringed with scarlet, from entering the captain’s room. 
She had more than half entered, but the soldier held her tight 
by the throat, straining the skin till her mouth was distorted at 
least three fingers from its proper position. The old woman 
gave one scratch with her nails, sharper than steel, across the 
liand that held her, which soon effected her liberation, and fell 
exhausted at the feet of Don Michele, to whom she clung, and 
shook one fist at the soldiers behind her, telling them not to 
touch her, poor creature. 

“ Take that, thou son of a cannon,” she said, turning to the 
soldier who was wiping off the blood from his scratches, and 
looking at the old woman very much as a mastiff looks at 
the cat that made him feel her claw. “ Yes, take that, and if 
thou want’st to try it again, thou wilt catch something worse 
yet.” 

“ And thou, ugly witch, try once more to enter here, when I 
am on guard * * Sandro, my good fellow, God bless thee (and 
as he spake these words he drew his under lip back of his 
upper teeth to imitate the voice of the old woman), let me go 
into the convent just a moment to say a word to that stranger 
lady, to get a little linen for Scannaprete, who is wounded, 
and a powder for Paciocco, who has a fever, * * a small bit of 
cancer (resuming his natural voice) light on thee, and the devil 
who sends thee ! Just come back here once, and I’ll give thee 
a taste of something. May they tear out my tongue by the 
roots, as Valenza, God bless him for it, did to the villain thy 
master, if I don’t make thee chant a funeral hymn, thou hag of 
the night of Saint Giovanni.” 

The old woman could easily have found matter to make up 
an answer, and not have infringed one of the fundamental 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


117 


laws of the female code, that of always having the last word, 
but she was in a hurry to say something important, and turn- 
ing her back to Sandro, in a way which may be more easily 
imagined, than described, 

“ If you don’t interfere (she addressed the Conestabile), this 
will be a fine business — up there on the plain, there’s been 
infernal work last night. The men came back an hour before 
daylight bringing that ugly Christian you took yesterday 
evening * * Holy virgin! he looked as though he had been 
dead three days. But his fright did not last long. Pietraccio 
dispatched him as he would have done a suckling kid.” 

“ How ?” exclaimed Martino and Don Michele, both speaking 
at once. “ Have they killed the Podesta ? Why ? Where ? How ?” 

“ What do you want me to say ? Blessed Virgin ! Pietrac- 
cio tried to make him understand he must pay God knows 
how many ducats for his ransom. And without a tongue 
you know it’s hard for a man to explain himself. He stood 
with his eyes fixed and glazed more than half mad. Then 
my master wrote what he wished on a sheet of paper, and 
handed it to him to read. Worse still 1 He looked like the 
statue of Saint Rocco, in the chapel of Belfiore. Pietraccio 
then gave him three or four slaps on the face, but I need not 
say what sort they were. No change! And then his rage 
come up * * * * you know when he gets angry t t * * * * * 
* The knife in his raised hand went in here at the pit of the 
stomach, and through it went (but then the knife is a foolish 
plaything — ^better leave it alone — it’s shameful for old men). 
In fact what do you want ? He’s a boy — Pve said so a thou- 
sand times to his mother ! Ghita ! that lad is too skilful with 
his hands * * but there’s no such thing as keeping him cool * *” 
This intelligence, and the way it was told, so astonished the 
two listeners, although for very different reasons, that they 
found no words for an answer. 

The old woman went on. “ In a word I finish, and then 
take myself off, for I’ve been on my feet all night. We went 
to sleep for an hour. In came Cocco d’Oro running. Up ! Up ! 
quick ! the sheriff— the court * * Up we got * Avhat then— 
they were already under Malagroita, and were coming on post 


118 


THE CHALLEKGE OF BARLETTA, 


haste. We set our legs to carrying us up the mountain. Now 
they are all concealed in the Grotto of Focognano, without a 
crust of bread, or a drop of water, and on the plain there are 
at least 200, between police and soldiers, and God send that 
they don’t get the tribe before the fetes. Now stir yourself 
quick, and find out some way to remedy the matter. * * 
Before this they have found the Podesta dispatched * * Holy 
Virgin * * what will be the end of this * * And says Ghita, 
don’t forget that up there there isn’t a bone to gnaw, and don’t 
lose time in sending something.’* 

When she had finished her story, she seized up the remnants 
of the last night’s supper she saw lying on the table, and 
without licence filled her apron with pieces of bread and meat, 
and fruit, — turned into a flask she carried, hung at her shoul- 
der the wine that remained, drinking what the flask could not 
hold, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she 
left the room, giving Sandro a push as she passed to clear 
the way, without making a parting sign to Martino or Don 
Michele. 

Ideas were thickening round the brain of Martino too fast 
to leave his head free from confusion, and with one hand on 
his beard and the other behind him he walked the room, 
shaking his head and breathing in a hurried manner. The sud- 
den movement of the cavalry of Barletta inclined him to give 
credence to the statement of Don Michele, who had forewarned 
him of it so exactly, and he began to think him really the great 
man he pretended to be. 

First of all he determined to adjust matters with him that he 
might not betray him to those who were coming from Barletta, 
in search of the assassins of the Podesta. Laying aside all 
haughtiness and half supplicatmg him, he made a tender of his 
utmost efforts in any undertaking. Their negotiations were 
hardly finished when the body of cavalry drove on to the bridge, 
and a clear voice louder than a trumpet called several times, 
Conestabile ! Schwarzenbach ! The Captain descended, and 
found Ettore Fieramosca and Fanfulla da Lodi waiting for him 
at the head of a large body of cavalry. The reader may per- 
haps remember the name of the second as one of the Italians 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAULETTA. 


119 


chosen for the approaching combat, and throughout the entire 
soldiery of Italy there was not a more desperately courageous 
man than he. For the most trivial reason, and often without 
any reason at all, he had frequently placed his life in danger 
Without reflection he thought only of his pleasures, and the 
necessity for fighting. Spry as a leopard, all nerve, an elastic 
and well knit frame, it seemed that nature, aware it would be 
the dwelling of a soul rash to madness, had studied to form him 
expressly to resist the most dangerous trials. He was the son 
of a soldier of Girolamo Rirario, and had been bred up in the 
camp. He had served in all the States of Italy, for either on 
account of a quarrel or insubordination or desire of change 
he was constantly seeking new masters. He had last fought 
under the Florentine standards, and abandoned their service 
under the following circumstances. 

Encamped under the walls of Pisa, an assault was made, 
in which, had not Paolo Viletti, Captain of the Republic, 
sounded a retreat and called off’ his men, the Florentine soldiers, 
filled with ardor, would have followed up their first advantage 
and taken possession of Pisa on that very day (Viletti, as 
every one knows, was branded as a traitor by his countrymen, 
and put to death). Fanfulla, always at the head of the fore- 
most, mounted one of the battlements by a scaling ladder, and 
pulling himself up by his arms, was soon on the top, where his 
desperate and invincible strokes with his broadsword opened a 
passage for a band of men to follow him. At this moment the 
retreat was sounded, and he was left fighting alone. All his 
indignation was roused when he saw he must retreat. He 
descended foaming with rage, under a shower of javelins, 
stones, and bullets, which glanced harmlessly from him ; and 
safe and sound he rushed back to the camp cursing like a mad- 
man everybody he met. The commissaries of the Florentine 
army were in council with Viletti in his camp. The infuriated 
Fanfulla rushed into their midst, and calling them traitors, fell 
upon them with a club he had picked up on the way, and began 
to deal out indiscriminate blows, and kicks, and thrusts, and 
stabs, reckless who, or how, or where he struck. He wielded 
the power of a giant, and the company, who were looking for 


120 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


no such tempest, were sent reeling to the ground, one over 
another, before they had fairly discovered the author of the 
disturbance. 

After such an exploit, as may be easily imagined, he mounted 
a horse without wasting any time in adieus, turned his back, 
and before the leaders of the retreating army had fairly taken 
an observation on their feet, he was far away from the camp. 
He took his course for the south, where he enlisted under the 
banner of Prospero Colonna, and was now with the rest of his 
company at Barletta. 

The news brought by Boscherino, that the Podestli had been 
taken by a band of brigands, communicated, of course, in a 
manner which brought no suspicion upon himself, had set in 
motion the whole police force of Barletta, who had begun their 
search among the mountains. Fieramosca and Fanfulla had 
followed on with a troop of horse, and whild the police were 
pressing up the pursuit, had stopped to guard the pass into 
the valley where the old church stood, receiving from the 
hands of the policemen, two prisoners taken with no little diffi- 
culty, whom they had conducted to the tower Martino 
Schwarzenbach commanded. 

When the captain descended to the gate, the two robbers 
were standing in the midst of the soldiers waiting for tlie prisor 
to be opened. One of them was the chief of the band, Pietraccio, 
a ferocious young fellow, who had the face and the frame of a 
savage. He wore- a rude cap from which his hair fell over 
his eyes in long red folds ; his arms were bare, still covered 
with the Podesta’s blood ; and bound with a cord so tightly 
across the breast that it cut into his flesh, and he had the cow- 
ardly sullen look of a wolf caught in a trap. The other was a 
woman of tall stature and beautiful form, but toil, habits of 
c.rime, the desperation of her present condition, gave her a 
haggard appearance, which indicated a greater age than she 
really bore. A wound that fell on her head while she was 
defending herself, had so deprived her of strength she had been 
borne in the arms of two soldiers. They had laid her down 
on the pavement with a shock which renewed the pain of the 
wound, and made her open her eyes and heave a deep sigh, 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


121 


while the blood rushed out afresh from her forehead and 
poured down over her face and breast. The dungeon where 
Don Michele had been confined, was opened, and she was cast 
in with Pietraccio, both of them still bound as they were. 

Freed from their charge, the troops returned towards the 
valley to be ready to receive other captives. Fanfulla mounted 
to the room of the Conestabile, and Ettore improved the 
opportunity of making a visit to Ginevra. 

The two females were surprised at his unexpected appear- 
ance at that hour, and after the first cordial greetings, listened 
to the cause which had brought him to the convent. In relat- 
ing the search for the brigands, he told them that, with the 
leader, a woman had been captured, who, placing herself at 
the entrance of the cave where they were hid, had fought des- 
perately, wounding several of the policemen, till she had been 
brought to the ground by a blow on the head, 

Ginevra’s compassion was excited, and she determined to go 
to her succor. She went to a casket where she kept different 
powders and preparations for which she was sometimes 
applied to, as we have seen, by the assassins themselves, and 
taking out something she thought would be serviceable, she 
requested Fieramosca to go to the Conestabile for the key of 
the dungeon. 

He went out, and passing up the winding stair-case which 
conducted to Martino’s apartment, he heard, as he approached 
the entrance, a rapid shuffling of feet which he could not 
explain. He burst open the door and saw Fanfulla standing in 
the centre of the room with an immense two-handled sword he 
had taken down from the beam, which he was brandishing 
about like a madman. He made feints, quick passes, thrusts, 
and cleaving blows, with such velocity, that the blade could 
hardly be seen but by misty circles in the air, and he wielded 
it as though he had been defending himself against an enemy. 
Ettore, who was entering, drew back a moment for fear of 
catching a stray cut, and contemplated with a smile the hare- 
brained play, Fanfulla flattered himself, was performed unob- 
served. The strokes he dealt in the air seemed, to the misfor- 
tune of the proprietor of the room, to have occasionally taken 
6 


122 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


effect. By mistake or malice, one of the blows had put an end 
to tlie long services of the half barrel, for it now lay under 
the bed divided in the middle like a nut cracked in two, and 
the liquor it contained had found its level in the lower parts of 
the floor. 

“ Holy wine is tapped late this year,” at last exclaimed 
Fieramosca with a laugh, and Fanfulla wheeling round let the 
broadsword fall at his feet, and turned a summerset upon the 
bed-clothes, bursting into a loud laugh like a lunatic. 

“ What the devil hast thou done, madman ? Take care, 
take care ! We’ve hardly been here half an hour, and thou 
hast done more mischief than a third of the Catalonians in a 
week ; and Martmo, where is he ?” 

At last Fanfulla cooled down, replied : 

“ He was here a minute ago, and had the impudence to say 
that nobody but the Swiss and the Germans knew how to 
wield a two handled broadsword. True, says I, and I 
besought him to show me a bit ; trying my hand at it as well 
as I could, I made an attack on the barrel (and may I be quar- 
tered if I did it on purpose), and he flew into a rage as though 
I’d fallen on him. Why just think what a beast ! He can’t 
take a joke ! and besides he was one of these chaps who knew 
that we Italians can hold a blade in hand. Well, to make a 
short story we had some high words, and he went off cursing 
and full of his threats. What would you have done ? Not 
caring to banter words with the blockhead, I sent him a 
cancher after the Lombard fashion, and told him, ‘ If you’d like 
to go down on the green before the tower. I’ll made an attack 
on your Dutch gourd, to show I mistook my man when I fell 
on the barrel.” 

“ And what did he say ?” 

“ Why, that I had better take myself off.” 

When he had finished his story, he leaped on the bed roar- 
ing with laughter, and sent its contents hurling into the air. 
The facts really were as he had related them ; and the captain, 
not caring to pick a quarrel with such a wild devil, and 
enraged by the loss of his wine, had gone off swearing in 
German, and climbed up by a stairway to a room in the next 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


123 


Story, where he had concealed Don Michele. From his strong- 
hold he overheard the story of Fanfulla, and occasionally 
raised his voice to twit him of his villainy, to which he replied 
giving him by way of parenthesis as good as he sent, still con- 
tinumg his narrative. 

Fieramosca, who had little heart for such jokes, became 
arbitrator, and with some difficulty brought them again to 
cordial terms. Martino came down, Fanfulla went off laugh- 
ing, and Ettore, who could hardly keep himself from laughing 
also, when he saw the German contemplate his divided barrel 
wuth the eye of a miser, who finds his secret case open and 
empty, made known the desire of Ginevrato enter the dungeon, 
and courteously requested it might be granted. 

The Conestabile had in the meantime set up on end the two 
pieces of the barrel, and with a wrapping-cloth he began to 
soak up the wine, and wring it carefully into the recipients, 
by which process he recovered a portion of his wasted 
treasure. VVhen he heard the desire of Ginevra he roughly 
replied : * 

“ Listen ! The assassins find those who succor them ; and 
a poor man who minds his own busmess, and does no 
harm to a living soul, finds madmen ready to sack his 
house !” 

“Signor Martino, you are a thousand times right, but you 
see I have had no hand in this.” 

“ And pray what hand had I in inviting the devil to come 
mid play off his pranks in my house ?” 

Fieramosca still insisted. 

“ Well, well, come back in half an hour, and you shall go 
into the dungeon — and may you all die there,” he muttered 
between his teeth. But Fieramosca was already half down 
the stairs, and his* words did not reach his ear. 


CHAPTER XI. 


The capture of Pietraccio and his mother was an event 
which seemed likely to be attended with grave consequences 
to Martino, and disturb the plans of Don Michele. They had 
already talked the matter over, and came to the conclusion it 
was necessary to let the assassin escape, that he might not be 
taken to Barletta, where he might reveal the practices of the 
captain. But this was not to be easily done without bribing 
over his keeper. 

When Fieramosca came to obtain admission to the dungeon, 
disturbed as he was by the pranks of Fanfulla, he could not 
at the moment decide what effect this was likely to have upon 
his own prospects. He had, however, sufficient tact to im- 
prove his time ; and, confiding in the artfulness of his new 
friend, he mounted again to his room, hoping to discover some 
means of extricating himself from his embarrassment. When 
Don Michele had heard the demand of Fieramosca, he said : 

“ If we had taken him in our pay he would not have served 
us better. Leave matters to me, Conestabile, and you’ll see if 
I can do a neat job ; but remember — ” * * 

“ Yes, we understand each other. It’s all cut and dried 
* * However, * * the nuns,” * * 

“ The nuns,” answered Don Michele, laughing, “ we won’t 
touch the creatures. Keep easy about that. Now hmid me 
the keys of the dungeon, and wait for me here.” 

Taking the keys he descended to the ground-floor, and care- 
fully opened the door. Putting his ear down, he heard the 
yomig chief and his mother conversing. He stopped, and stood 
still on the first stair of the four or five which led down to the 
dungeon, and stretched out his neck till he could see and hetur 
them both. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


125 


The mother had been laid on the ground, with her head 
resting on a beam, in a comer of the dungeon, but being seized 
with a burning fever, in her writhing she had fallen witli her 
forehead on the damp, cold earth, without strength to raise 
herself up. The son, with his arms bound so tightly across 
his breast he could not stir even a finger, had made a generous 
but ineffectual attempt to help her : he had at last knelt down 
in despair by her side, with his vacant eye turned, hopelessly, 
now on his mother, and now on the wall. She was rallying 
her last strength, at each moment, to raise her head, but she 
was too weak to do it alone. At last, by a desperate stmggle, 
the son had succeeded in getting his knee under her head, 
as she put forth all her energy, and in this manner she had 
succeeded in regaining her first position. But the effort was 
followed by so violent a paroxysm of pain, she had raised her 
hands to her head, and, with a prolonged groan, exclaimed : 

“ Curse the blow of that villain’s Calabrian pike. * * But 
if the devil leave me two minutes, * * * pu have thee 
know for once who thou art. * * What good in praying to 
God and his saints ? They listened to me finely when I prayed 
them !» * * * And here raising with difficulty her glazed 

eyes towards the ceiling, she shrieked forth blasphemies that 
would have made any man’s hair but Pietraccio’s stand on end. 
“ And yet,” she continued, changing her desperately ferocious 
tone to one more dolorous and deep, “ and yet even I had 
hoped for pardon * * when I used to chant with the other 
nuns. * * Oh ! cursed be the hour I ever put my feet over 
that threshold ! * * But what’s the use of mourning. * * 

I belonged to the devil before I was born, * * Pve tried to 
escape from him, * * see how I’ve succeeded.” And lift- 
ing her eyes once more to heaven, she said with an expression 
that could not be described, “ Art thou content ?” Then turn- 
ing to her son : “ But if thou canst escape from this place * * 
if thou art a man, * * he who is the cause of my death and 
thy ruin, will be my eternal companion, if the priests tell the 
truth. That night at Rome, when I placed thee at the comer 
of the Bloody-Tower to assassinate that lord, and thou, dolt. 


126 


THK CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


didst cry out before the deed was done, and they took thee and 
ruined thee as thou art. * * He was Cjesar Borgia ! . . . 

Wliile he was in the university of Pisa, I was in a convent, 
and he became enamored of me, and I, mad fool, of him. Did 
I know who he was ? One night he came to me, * * I had 

with me a little daughter seven years old, * * * she was 

sleeping in a little room near by, and she awoke — she saw 
him entering the window, and she gave* a scream, * * wo 

to him, if they had discovered him, * * he had just been 

made Bishop of Pamplona — he threw the pillows over her 
head and held them down with his knees! Monster! * * I 

fell to the ground. * * Oh ! swear to me by all hell ! by my 

death ! thou wilt kill him ! * * Tell me by a nod thou 

takest the oath, * * at least this !” * * 

The assassin, with his eyes strained horribly on his mother, 
moved his head in sign of his oath, and she, taking from under 
her clothes a chain she wore next her body, went on : — 

“ And when thou hast torn out his heart, tell him. * * 
Look at this chain, * * look at it close — my mother returns 
it to thee. ♦ * i have not done yet. * * Oh ! for one 
moment longer ! then I shall not fear thee — when I came to 
myself, I was extended on the bed — and thou wert * * Oh ! 
God, I can’t utter the word, * * in the place of poor Ines. 

Oh ! how beautiful thou wert, my darling i * * * now thou 

art in Paradise, * * and l! l!!? Why must I go to hell V* 

And as she gasped forth these broken words, she uttered a 
scream which shook the very ceiling of the dungeon — she was 
dead > 

Pietraccio was not greatly moved. With a vacant look he 
gazed on the convulsions of death on his mother, and when 
he saw she had expired, he crawled away into a distant cor- 
ner, and crouched down shivering like a wild beast shut up in 
a cage, with a dead body of one of its own species. 

This terrible story, uttered in the raving delirium of the dy- 
ing, he had heard only in part. The single vivid idea that 
sunk into his brain was, that he had sworn to revenge her 
wrongs on Cmsar Borgia, for a thousand reasons ! But princi- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


127 


pally, it seemed to him, for bringing him to this woful con- 
dition. 

But this same relation had very differently struck the villain- 
agent of Valentino ; and had a human being gazed on him at 
that moment, he would have felt that every word of the dying 
woman had sucked out his very life-blood, drop by drop, so 
terribly was his countenance changed ; and when the mother 
fell a corpse upon the floor, he almost fell himself. He de- 
scended with trembling legs, and with trembling hand cut the 
cords that bound Pietraccio ; and fixing his eye for a moment 
on the chain around his neck, said to him— 

“ In a moment a gentleman and lady are coming to visit thee. 
They wish to liberate thee, but, it seems to me, this should 
not be their work. Watch thy time, and while they are see- 
ing if they can help the woman, take to the stairs and fly ; and 
look out thou art not taken again, for a price is already on thy 
head ! ” 

He uttered these words with a tremor, as if he were standing 
on coals of Are — left his own poniard in the hands of Pietraccio, 
and in almost a single breath was again in the room of the 
Conestabile. In the proper place we shall assign the reasons 
why what he had seen and heard in that dungeon had power 
to make even such a desperate villain tremble. 

Our reader will perhaps begin to say, “ When will we have 
done with this frightful train of assassins, traitors, prisoners, 
deaths, devils, and what not ?” 

But if we have divined his secret, he (begging his pardon) 
has not discovered ours : for it is our intention, at this very 
moment, to put an end to the imbroglio, by sending Don Mi- 
chele, Pietraccio and Martino, all to the devil ; for, to tell the 
truth, we have about got sick of them ourselves. We must 
ask the reader once more to take a leap into the very midst of 
the castle of Barletta, which we shall find has undergone no 
little change from the period of our first visit with Don Michele. ^ 

The courtyard and terraces were ornamented with hangings 
of silk of every color — with garlands of myrtle and laurel, 
wrought into festoons and cyphers — and from the balconies 
and the windows were waving, in gorgeous folds, all the ban- 


128 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


ners of the army. The multitude, crowded around, made up 
of idlers, spectators, and men employed in making preparations, 
were moving about, closing in, and again dispersing through 
the stairways, the courtyard and the galleries. Servants and 
laborers, soldiers and pages, were going and coming with loads 
of cords, ladders, and implements of every description, for 
furnishing the table or adorning the theatre — meats, fruits, 
wines and wild-game, which the chief men of the city and the 
army were rivalling each other in presenting to the Spanish 
captain — there was nothing but going and coming, screaming 
and calling ; and, in a word, everything was in inconceivable 
confusion. 

When the bell of the tower struck the fourteenth hour (eight 
o’clock in the morning), the great captain appeared at the head 
of the outside staircase, with all his barons ; and the joy he 
felt in the prospect of so soon greeting his beloved daughter 
(for the courier had arrived with intelligence she was only 
three miles from Barletta), he had shown in the magnificence 
of his dress, and that of his cortege. 

Over a close doublet of superb cloth of gold, he wore a 
mantle of bright purple velvet, lined with ermine, and on his 
head a cap of the same material. From a most beautiful clasp of 
sapphire shot up a plume, more than a palm in height, composed 
entirely of the purest pearls, strung on threads of steel ; but it 
floated over his brow as light and airy as though it had been 
made of down. His sword and dagger, sheathed also in pur- 
ple velvet, glittered in gems ; on his left breast was a sword 
embroidered in crimson, the msignia of the order of St. James. 

A white Catalonian mule was there waiting for him, at the 
bottom of the steps, caparisoned in a saddle-cloth of change- 
able purple silk, quilted in gold, that swept the ground. Seated 
in his saddle, his suite mounted their horses, and the whole cor- 
tege set off to meet the Donna Elvira. Prospero and Fabrizio 
Colonna, dressed in rose sciamito, richly embroidered in silver, 
rode by his side, on the two most beautiful Arab horses that had 
for a long time been seen in Italy. The two brothers, not yet 
past the vigor of manhood, sat in their high velvet saddles, 
curbing in their prancing steeds with a superb air, which well 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


129 


became the two bravest soldiers and illustrious Condottieri of 
Italy. 

In the train that followed, all eyes were turned on the frown- 
ing, robust Pedro Navarro, the inventor of the mines used with 
such dreadful effect at the siege of Castel dell’ Uovo. Diego 
Garcia di Paredes, the Hercules of the times, who never 
clothed himself but in steel, without even preparing a court- 
dress for this gala-day, had limited his display to a brighter 
burnishing of his arms than usual, and mounting the most fero- 
cious battle charger that stood in his stalls. He now appeared 
on a wild Calabrian stallion, caught but a few weeks before, 
high, strong-limbed, and black as a raven, without a hair of 
another color. Paredes was the only man who would or 
could ride this wild animal. His home was in the forest, and 
finding himself in the midst of the gay thousands, he lashed 
himself into rage, and foamed like a lion. 

But the stature of the knight, his heavy armor, and the aid 
of a bit half an arm’s length, which drew blood from the 
charger’s mouth, kept him in subjection ; and after making a 
hundred wild leaps (and every one was careful to give him 
room), he wisely concluded he had found a master in Diego 
Garcia, who, nailed between the saddle-bows, laughed at his 
vain struggles. 

The flower of the Italian youth came on with the Spanish 
barons. Ettore Fieramosca rode between his two dearest 
friends, Inigo Lopes de Ayala and Brancaleone, carrying a 
mantle of blue satin, embroidered in silver, the work and the 
gift of the two females of S. Ursula. He had the reputation of 
being the best horseman in the army. The horse on which he 
rode, of the color of pearl, with dark main and tail, given him 
by Signore Prospero, had been trained by him with so much 
care, he seemed to know the will of his master without the aid 
of spur or bridle. Fieramosca seemed to possess the gift ot 
being the first in all things, whoever was his rival. His form, 
matchless in every proportion, was shown in all its perfection 
by a dress of white satin, fitted so closely to his body that not a 
wrinkle could be seen from head to foot ; and such was his 
beauty and the grace of his carriage, that the multitude, who 
6 * 


130 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


crowded 'around the cavalcade as it moved on, bent upon him 
all their looks, and accorded to him all their admiration. The 
youth saw his triumph, and half blushed at the consciousness 
of a sentiment in himself, he could hardly have pardoned in 
the other sex. 

The cortege was brought up by the squires and attendants 
of the knights who preceded them ; and as it was the cus- 
tom in those times for every knight to attach to his service 
men of different nations, and the more barbarous and foreign, 
the more they were prized, there were to be seen Spahis 
Turks with corselets in the forms of shells, with scimitars and 
crescents — men from the kingdom of Granada, armed with 
Moorish lances, and two Tartar bowmen, who were the grooms 
of Prospero Colonna, dressed in the most flashing colors, with 
their bows and quivers of massive silver. There were negroes 
from the sources of the Nile, armed with long darts, and their 
barbarous visages contrasting with the pure complexions of 
the Europeans, formed tout ensemble a picture of the truest but 
most bizarre description. 

The departure of Gonzales was aimounced by the thunder 
of all the artillery which bristled from the towers and battle- 
ments of the castle, and the chiming of the bells of the city. 
At intervals could be heard above the deafening noise, the 
blasts of the trumpets, and the music of instruments producing 
a harmony, which, if fllled with discords, served to express the 
martial joy which inspired the anny. 

The news was now brought to the great Captain that the 
Duke of Nemours with all his barons had already entered 
Barletta. He stopped the cortege, and sending some of his 
cavaliers to meet him, in a few minutes the French appeared 
on the opposite side of the piazza. When the Duke saw 
Gonzales dismounted, coming to meet him, he was soon on 
the ground himself, and both of them extending their hands 
with cordiality, the Frenchman courteously said he should 
consider himself wanting in chivalry, if when he had been 
invited to a festa he should come to disturb it, as would 
have been the case if on his own account he had retarded 
the father for a single moment from embracing his child. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


131 


Aware he was then on his way to meet her, he prayed him 
to allow him to accompany them, assured that although war 
made them enemies, the Spanish Captain would accord to him 
the merit of being the most enthusiastic admirer of his valor, 
his genius and all his sublime gifts. Such courteous words 
insured a cordial acquiescence. 

The two chieftains again mounted to their saddles and led 
the cortege on their trains, mingling together with all that 
courtesy of manner of which the French have in all ages been 
such perfect masters. A little more than a mile from the gates 
of the city the cortege halted, for the train which escorted the 
litter of Doima Flvira had appeared in the distance. 

She came in the company of Vittoria Colonna, daughter of* 
Fabrizio, who afterwards became the bride of the Marquis de 
Pescara, held dear by all the world for her fortitude, her vir- 
tue and her genius. Gonzales dismounted, and ran to embrace 
his daughter who had descended from the litter, and he folded 
her in his arms repeatedly, exclaiming, “ Hija de mi alma ” 
(child of my soul), and he loaded her with caresses which 
contrasted strikingly with the lofty dignity of that great man. 

He had chosen Ettore and Inigo to act as Esquires to his 
daughter, and they came forward with an Andalusian jenet for 
her to mount. The young Italian dropped one knee to the 
ground, and the Donzella stepping lightly the end of her foot 
on the other, mounted to the saddle with the most perfect 
grace. The pale brow of Fieramosca tinged with a slight Ver- 
million when he rose to his feet, and received the thanks of 
Donna Elvira, accompanied by a smile and a glance of the 
eye, which expressed but too well the satisfaction she felt in 
a choice which had accorded her so handsome a knight. Her 
character (and this may have been caused by the excessive 
caresses of her father) was not marked perhaps by all that 
maturity, which might be expected in a maiden of twenty 
years. Her warm heart and vivid fancy were not always 
tempered by that upright judgment so difficult to find in either 
sex, and which is, notwithstanding, after virtue, the most pre- 
cious jewel of the soul. 

Her friend, Vittoria Colonna, united to these two gifts, shrewd- 


132 


THE CHALLENGE Or BARLETTA. 


ness, and the brilliancy of a ready genius. Although they might 
have been called equally beautiful, there could not have been 
found two beauties in character more dissimilar. The flash- 
ing eyes of Donna Elvira, her frequent smile, caused in part 
perhaps by an intimate consciousness it brightened her beauty, 
pleased at first sight ; but the majestic and truly Roman features 
and fame of the daughter of Fabrizio, her beautiful counte- 
nance, like the ideal the Grecian sculptors tried to embody in 
the Muses, a kind of divine ray that flashed around her eyes, 
went deeper to the heart, and stirred up a feeling not easily 
forgotten. A penetrating eye would have fancied in her a 
tinge of pride. If it were there, her virtue overcame it, and 
made it brighten the sublimity of her character. 


CHAPTER XII. 


The whole cortege entered Barletta, and dismounted at the 
castle. The best apartments were assigned to the new guests, 
the train dispersed, and each one prepared to participate in 
the chases and tournaments that were to take place during 
the day. Lists had been erected on the piazza with rising 
platforms, and a circle of boxes gaily ornamented. In certain 
enclosures appropriated to that purpose, there had been seen 
for several days previous, bulls, steers and buffaloes, all wild ; 
destined for the arena, so passionately admired by the Italians 
of those times, that the noblest gentleman did not disdain to 
muigle in its dangers and excitements. In this place, which 
had been levelled and prepared for that purpose, the combat 
was to take place, and already was the enclosure crowded with 
people. The roofs and windows of the neighboring houses 
were also thronged with spectators ; and the sergeants and 
esquires, in their many-colored doublets, were now awaiting, 
in the newly swept and freshly watered piazza, the arrival of 
Gonzales. 

He came up soon after with all his train — the Duke de 
Nemours on his right, and on his left Donna Elvira. Hiding 
round the lists they alighted at the most spacious and magnifi- 
cent box, and took their seats amidst the cheers and acclama- 
tions of the populace — who are always so captivated with 
gorgeous dress, and gold, and tinsel — and the signal was given 
for turning out the first bull. The murmur of the multitude, 
and the strife of spectators for the best places, stopped 
suddenly when the enclosure was opened. An immense bull, 
with head and hinder parts all black, and a ring of dark russet 
girdling his body, leaped into the arena. Throwing up his 


134 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


tail, he rushed about for some time, till he saw he had not yet 
escaped from his prison, and stopping short rolled his bloody 
eyes suspiciously around, and began to paw up the dirt in the 
arena. 

At this moment all eyes were attracted towards an angle of 
the piazza, by an affray between two men, the cause of which 
was unknown. To explain it to the reader, we must return for 
a single moment to the females of Saint Ursula. 

The evening Fieramosca had announced to them that the 
combat against the French was decided on, Ginevra was not 
the only one who trembled at the thought of the danger he 
was to run. Zoraide herself was also overcome with fear. 
The heart which beats in a proud and lofty bosom is often 
difficult of access ; but if, at last, love enter there, how great 
the ruin. From that night she knew neither peace, nor repose, 
nor slumber. She passed her days wrapt in one single thought, 
harassed without ceasing by the same fancies she could not 
drive away, unable even to apply herself to her usual occupa- 
tions, except for a few moments, when she seated herself at 
the embroidery frame to work on the mantle destined for Et- 
tore. But she soon threw down her needle and passed whole 
hours at the balcony, unconscious what she was doing, pulling 
off the twigs and vine leaves that shaded the place ; or she 
hastily left the room, as though she had something important 
to do, and then, forgetting herself entirely, slackened her pace 
and stopped, with her eyes fixed on the ground — keeping by 
herself, and flying, above all, from the gaze of her companion, 
who she feared would every instant discover what she desired, 
above all things, should be locked up in the secresy of her own 
bosom. 

Nor was Ginevra less agitated than herself, and perhaps the 
struggles she suffered sprang from more potent and serious 
causes. The love she cherished for the young knight, begotten 
and nourished by a long intimacy, and a feeling of obligation 
that she owed to him everything, had now, by their common 
danger, become more intense than ever. The thought that a 
glorious death might snatch him from her for ever, and the 
virtuous remorse (for collision against almost insuperable 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


135 


obstacles always fires the passions of the soul) which admon- 
ished her of her duty to seek every means of returning to her 
husband, and tear herself from him, who, notwithstanding 
their unchangeable virtue, held her on the brink of the precipice. 

She remembered she had promised God and the saint of the 
convent to reveal to Ettore the resolution she had made to 
abandon him ; and she found an excuse in reflecting that on 
the very day she was to make the announcement, he had come 
with the news of the challenge. But still she felt, in her 
inmost soul, that while this cause might justify her in a 
momentary delay, it did not release her from her obligation. 
Besides these thoughts, which made her wretched enough, 
a iiainful jealousy of her companion had begun to torment her 
mind. Women have an intuitive sense, I might almost say 
an instinct, to guide them in detecting the passion of love, 
even when hidden in the depths of the heart. Ginevra soon 
saw the change that had come over Zoraide, and she divined 
but too well its secret. Several days passed after this 
discovery was made, but that unbosomed and affectionate 
intimacy, which had so long existed between them, was 
destroyed for ever. 

Meanwhile in the convent there was no other theme for 
Gennaro, the nuns, and the soldiers of the tower, to talk about, 
but the fetes to be given at Barletta. All who were called to 
the city for business, returned to tell of the preparations, and 
all that was said about the approaching festivals. And when 
that anxiously wished for morning came, all but those who 
were absolutely prevented from going, went to Barletta at 
break of day to secure a place. The gardener, who, like all 
men of southern climates, was mad for amusement, dressed 
himself in his best clothes, with a beautiful mass of flowers 
in his hat, and prepared to enter his boat before daylight had 
hardly broke over the east. Zoraide met him on the stairs 
which led down to the sea, dressed with more care than the 
place or hour seemed to require. 

“Gennaro,” she said, “I would like to go with thee to 
Barletta.” 

These words were pronounced with a kind of hesitation, so 


136 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


new to Gennaro, who was accustomed to hear her speak 
resolutely and firmly, that he gazed steadily on her a moment 
before making any reply. She was mistress to do so, and 
would do him too much honor, and he duly regretted he could 
not have swept out his boat, and laid down a cloth to make 
her more comfortable. 

“ But I’ll run and do it now, and be back in a moment,” 
said he, as he mounted the steps. Zoraide seized his arm 
with a force which astonished him, and looking in her face a 
moment, he said to himself, “ Is she mad or bewitched ?” 

The maiden had left Ginevra still in bed, for she wished to 
give no explanation of her visit to Barletta, which must at 
least seem strange, as it was the first time she had ever 
stepped out of the convent; and she now dreaded every 
moment’s delay, expecting her friend would appear. But, 
with a few words, uttered more in a tone of command than of 
request, she made the gardener enter the boat, and he rowed 
to the city. On the way he kept up his babble, telling her it 
was well she had come with him, after all, for he was a friend 
of the cameriere (valet) of Gonzales, and no one could procure 
her a better place to see the spectacle. They reached the 
piazza of the castle just as Gonzales and his train, with the 
French barons, set out to meet the Donna Elvira. All the 
prayers of Zoraide for the gardener not to leave her alone were 
ineffectual ; and Gennaro mingled in the crowd and dust of the 
cavalcade. He only consented to conduct her to the ’ inn of 
Veleno, with a promise to return shortly. 

Gratified beyond his expectations, he remembered his pro- 
mise too late, and when he returned to accompany her to one of 
the boxes, he found them already crowded with spectators. 
He saw, at a single glance, all attempts to get a seat for his 
companion or himself would be utterly hopeless. By prayers 
and lusty pushes alternately resorted to, he at last made his 
way through the dense mass that had crowded up to the boxes, 
and crept under one of them, near the entrance the combatants 
were to pass in going into the arena. But he thus got himself 
into a place, where he could see nothing but scores of specta- 
tors’ legs dangling over his head, which only provoked him 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


137 


with himself for having proved so stupid a guide. Luckily, 
however, at the moment the bull was turned into the arena, 
Fanfulla da Lodi, who had the management of the fight, came 
out, and seeing Zoraide looking anxiously about, he cast his 
eye on the gardener, who implored him in the following man- 
ner : 

“ Excellency ! Illustrissima ! Pity this poor Signora, who is 
dying to see the plays, we got here late * *.” 

Zoraide perceiving in the warm sparkling glance of the 
young knight to whom he directed this request, something 
more than a mere desire to find her a seat, gave Gemiaro a 
punch to stop his clack, and Fanfulla approached her, and 
taking her by the hand, led her out behind the large boxes, 
opening a way through the crowd with a cudgel, and looked 
up to see where he could procure her a post. 

On the last bench, in the best place entirely at his ease, with 
his legs sprawled out, and his arms folded on his breast, to 
his great misfortune sat the Conestabile of the Tower of Ursula, 
Martino Schwarzenbach. Fanfulla would not have missed this 
very chance at that moment for a thousand ducats. With 
his long cudgel he could reach to the German’s heel, who was 
nearly twice a man’s height from the ground. He tapped him 
gently, and he turned round to see who it was. Fanfulla very 
composedly raised his hand to his forehead, and moving his 
fingers up and down with a slight mclination of his head, one 
side accompanied by a significant hint from the eye and mouth, 
gave him to understand, in no dubious manner, that he was to 
abandon his post for the lady he conducted. 

The expression on his face would have stirred up the ire of 
a dead man. Martino feeling secure in his high post, and 
thinking most likely, too, at that moment of the half barrel of 
wine, replied only by an impudent shrug of his shoulders, 
which seemed to say, “ Take yourself off,” and resumed his 
former position. 

“ German ! German !” cried out Fanfulla, shaking his head, 
and lifting his voice, “ dost thou want a good load of wood to 
carry ? I tell thee to settle up thy accounts ; thou hast had thy 
sight of the games for to-day !” 


138 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Martino moved not, however ; he only muttered something in 
a low voice, which showed he had no little dread of his adver- 
sary, although far below him. Sooner done than said, Fan- 
fulla leaped on to a beam laid crosswise, and seizing the Cones- 
tabile by the legs, who taken unawares could not help himself, 
brought him tumbling down from his elevation. It was his 
intention to bring him to the ground by a single jerk, but poor 
Martino was stopped in his fall by two timbers, through which 
his belly could find no passage, and he groaned out : 

“ Misericordia ! Help.” Fanfulla still plied him with licks, 
thrusts and blows, till he at last found his way to terra-firma, 
covered with scratches and bruises. He brought his fetes to a 
close, by very quietly telling him : 

“ I’m really grieved at heart for all this, but did I not tell thee 
thou hadst seen all the games thou wouldst see to-day ?” He 
then carefully assisted Zoraide to ascend to the place with 
Gennaro, and disappeared in the crowd, laughing at the thous- 
and curses the German sent after him. Martino went on, rub- 
bing and feeling of himself to see if any of his bones were 
broken, and when he had finished his examinations, he gath- 
ered up his cap and his gloves, and took himself off, thinking 
busily how he should take revenge. 

Zoraide in the meantime had safely seated herself in the 
place won for her by the victory of Fanfulla, where she had 
a full view of the entire amphitheatre. Her eye wandered 
round over the crowd, and fixed upon a box on the opposite 
side, where she saw Ettore seated at the side of the Donna 
Elvira among the noblest barons, showing, by his gallant cour- 
tesy, he was well worthy of being chosen knight of the day. 
The young Spanish maiden, with her warm heart, and fervid 
and fanciful genius, desired perhaps to attribute these atten- 
tions to a cause which would have flattered her vanity and 
her heart. There were two female spectators of their conver- 
sation, who, although at different distances, and with dissimilar 
sentiments, lost, however, not a sign that passed between them. 
Zoraide was seated too far from them to hear their words, but 
she watched all their movements and expressions so intensely, 
she could not but perceive how well the daughter of Gonzales 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


139 


appreciated the brave Italian at her side ; she saw, toOj that 
^he gazed on him with a sentiment deeper than a courteous 
recognition of gallantry required. She could not divine the 
thoughts of Fieramosca, but a heart that felt as hers, did that 
day tremble at a shadow. The other was Vittoria Colonna, 
who had learned by experience that the beautiful Elvira was 
not proof against the assaults of a handsome face and flatter- 
ing words. She felt for her a deep and pure affection, and the 
troubled brow and the penetrating glance of the daughter of 
Fabrizio showed she saw with pain, the intimacy and fervor 
of their conversation, and feared the consequences. 

The first bull that entered the arena had been abandoned in 
the outset to the multitude ; many had entered to combat him, 
with varied fortunes, but no one had obtained a victory. From 
one of the side boxes, filled with Spanish and Italian barons, 
who had entreated him to enter the arena, Diego Garcia at 
last came forward to give an essay of his skill in this kind of 
conflict. The ability of the Matador, in Spain, consists in 
modern times, in being able to plunge the sword into the joint 
of the vertebrae of the neck, as the bull bends his head in the 
act of tossing his adversary on his horns into the air. But in 
those times, when the wielding of ponderous weapons gave 
prodigious force to the anns, that was esteemed the best blow 
which, by one cleaving stroke, separated the bull’s head from 
his body, and those who united gigantic strength to dexterous 
skill often succeeded. 

Paredes entered the arena, bearing his good two-handed 
broadsword on his left shoulder, clothed in the Matador’s dress 
of buflalo-hide, and his head uncovered — ^but seeing the bull 
had already been wounded, and was losing blood, he beckoned 
to the keepers to send in a fresh one. The wounded beast 
was caught and led out. An enclosure was opened, and ano- 
ther still larger and more ferocious than the first, rushed out. 
Coming from the dark into the full blaze of the sun, dazzled 
and enraged, he began to dash wildly round the arena, as those 
animals usually do, till he caught sight of his antagonist, and 
stopped short in front of him. Throwing down his head and 
bellowing, with his tongue hanging nearly a foot from his 


140 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


mouth, he drew himself back several paces to gain larger 
space for his plunge, and began pawing up the ground before 
him high over his head. Garcia’s strength was enormous, 
but it would have been rash to rush upon a bull armed with 
such enormous horns, and a neck larger and more muscular 
than had perhaps ever been seen by the spectators. The 
Spaniard saw he must be cautious. He raised his sword with 
both hands over his left shoulder, and with his right foot 
stamped three or four times on the ground, crying out, “ Ah ! 
ah !” The bull lowered his horns, and dashed upon his enemy. 
When he had almost reached him, the Spaniard leaped aside 
and brought down his deep blade with such cleaving power, 
and with so much dexterity, that the head rolled to the ground, 
and the body made yet one or two steps, and fell, thundering, 
to the side of the arena. 

A universal shout to Diego Garcia rent the air, and he re- 
turned and seated himself among his companions. The French 
knights, unaccustomed to this kind of spectacle, perceiving the 
ease with which the Spaniard had despatched the bull, thought 
it a very pretty amusement. They were men in the flower of 
life, and of physical force, and well-skilled in the use of arms. 
“ Why,” said they, “ we can do the same thing, without a 
question.” Foremost among these gentlemen was La Motte, 
who had ransomed himself from the hands of liis victor Garcia. 

He had a haughty nature ; and he carried a poisoned tooth 
against him, not because he had not been honorably treated, 
but it seemed to him intolerable to have been worsted on the 
field, and he was more irritated by seeing before him the man, 
whom all were gazing on, who had brought him to lick the 
dust. 

He applauded the bold stroke of Garcia ; for he did not wish 
to appear invidious, or wanting in courtesy, but with that sort 
of expression the French of our times call suffisanty to use a 
word the Italians lack in their vocabulary, and drawing himself 
up before him to his full height, he said to him, and as was his 
custom, without looking him particularly in the face : — 

“ Bravo, Don Diego — ^well cleared, per N. Dame.” Then 
turning round to one of his companions, he said with a sneer ; 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


141 


“ Grand mesclief a ete que le taureau n’eut pas sa cotte demailles: la 
rescousse eut ete pour lui.'* (It is a sad mistake, the bull had not 
a coat of mail on his neck — the tables would have been turned.) 

Paredes overheard him, and his ire burned, as he said to 
himself, “ Voto a Dios que he de saber si ese perro Frances tiene los 
dientes tan largos como la lengua” (By God, I’ll see if this 
French dog has teeth as long as his tongue.” 

Stepping up to him he said, “ How many handsome gold 
ducats would it please you to pay me, if on the first trial I 
' sever the neck of a bull covered with mail ? and you can’t 
even cut off one naked. And even without talking of ducats, 
for I’d not have you think Diego Gafcia seeks to be paid like 
a torero — let us come to honor, and see if you know how to 
imitate my blow, as well as you know how to sneer at it !” 

This challenge was not very agreeable to La Motte, and he 
bit his tongue for his folly in provoking it ; by no means from 
cowardice, for he was a bold and a brave man, but being the 
first time he ever undertook to combat such a beast, he under- 
stood none too well how to do the work. But it was too late to 
retreat — he was in the presence of the wrong man, and he 
must leap the ditch. He boldly replied : 

“ For a French knight it would certainly be no dishonor to 
refuse to try his strength against a bull, but let it never be said 
that Guide de la Motte ever refused to strike a blow with his 
blade, let the cause be what it may — to the proof !” He rose, 
hissing between his teeth with rage, “ Chien d’ Espagnol, fi je 
pouvais le tenir sur dix pieds bon terrain^ au lieu de ta bite r 
(Dog of a Spaniard, could I but have thee on ten feet of solid 
ground in lieu of thy beast.) He had carefully watched, and 
perfectly understood how Garcia had so successfully made his 
master-stroke. Young, a Cavalier, a Frenchman, could he be 
diffident of himself ! 

At this challenge, so new, all the youth rose to their feet. 
In Gonzales’ balcony, the bustle and noise were noticed, and 
the cause was soon known. In a few moments it had spread 
throughout the amphitheatre, and was received by the vast 
multitude with the wildest delight. True, the news in passing 
from mouth to mouth, had suffered strange transformations. 


142 


THE CHA.LLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


which became still more curious, as it descended to the lowest 
classes of the people. The spot where Zoraide sat being the 
farthest of all the amphitheatre from the balcony of Gonzales, 
was the very point where the news in meeting from two half 
circles, had become most perfectly transformed. The more 
distant wishing to get the report from those nearest, there fol- 
lowed such a waving of heads and turning of faces, that the 
progress of the mtelligence along the dense masses of specta- 
tors could be clearly discerned. Gennaro had long been on 
his feet, with his neck stretched out, waiting impatiently for 
the first arrival of the news. He, Zoraide, and those who sat 
nearest, had noticed the. confusion in the box of the knights 
and leaders, and had seen the first reports leave their box, and 
spread through the arena. The fete seemed interrupted. No 
other bull was brought out ; and everybody was asking their 
neighbor, “ what has happened ? what can it be ?” but without 
any reply — till at last the report began to go through the 
assembly, “ The combat between the French and the Italians 
is coming on now in the arena.” “Oh, yes !” says another, 
“ don’t you see Fieramosca there nailed to that box ? and see 
how he talks to that young lady ; it seems he ’s thinking of 
everything in the world but the combat too !” 

Zoraide heard this and heaved a sigh, — she turned to the 
other side, — “ They say the French captain has challenged 
Gonzales, and he who kills the wild bull from Gnarato, will 
have conquered in the war, and shall be lord of the realm.” 

In the mean while, several men who were busy about the 
enclosures, seemed to be preparing to unloose another bull. 
On one side was seen Diego Garcia with his two-handed sword 
on his shoulder, surrounded by a number of others who seem- 
ed to be all trying to speak at once with great earnestness, as 
though they were endeavoring to persuade him of something ; 
but on his bold brow, which towered high above all the rest, 
could be read, even at that distance, the immoveable purpose 
to redeem his pledge, whatever might be the hazard. A short 
distance beyond, stood La Motte, surrounded by his French 
companions, who were beseeching him not to leave them cause 
for shame. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


143 


Meanwhile one of the spectators, who occupied one of the 
lower tiers, had just finished a conversation with Veleiio who 
was by his side, and now turned to Gennaro : — “ Say, my brave 
fellow, those gentlemen down there are going to try who can 
drink off a bottle of ‘ Greek’ all at one breath, in the face of 
the bull.” 

A general laugh followed this nonsense, but the merriment 
stopped suddenly when they saw Fanfulla leading in the 
sergeants to clear the arena, in which remained alone and 
immovable, with his huge sword on his shoulder, the gigan- 
tic Spaniard. 

He well knew he was pledged for a deed which could not 
be too easily done ; that even with his Herculean strength, to try 
to sever the neck of a bull clad in mail, was at least a rash 
undertaking ; and he had provided himself with another, and a 
much larger sword, which he used only in attacking or defend- 
ing a breach. He had run to his house and ground the edge 
of it round, and devoured in haste all he could lay his hands 
on, and drank off a flask of Spanish wine. For these prepara- 
tions he had had abundance of opportunity ; for no little time or 
force were necessary to clothe the neck of a bull in a cloth of 
mail. It had been left open before, the arms were thrown over 
the horns, fitted and fastened under the neck, and extended 
down upon the face. Those who in our times have seen such 
spectacles, are aware that when these animals are taken in 
some dark place and once chained firmly by the horns, they 
can be kept perfectly quiet. 

At the sound of trumpets and instruments, a king-at-arms 
clothed in a coat of yellow and red, bearing on his breast and 
back the arms of Spain, came forward, and lifting a mace as a 
signal for silence, proclaimed with a loud voice : — 

“ In the name of His Catholic Majesty, Ferdinando, King of 
Castile, Leon, the Kingdom of Granada, the Indies of the West, 
etc., etc. ; Don Gonzales Hernandez de Cordova, Marquis 
d’Almeuarez, Commander Cavalier of the order of St. James, 
Captain and Governor for His most Catholic Majesty, etc. ; pro- 
hibits all here p'resent, under the penalty of two lashes, and 
even more if so adjudged, from disturbing by voices, cries. 


144 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


signs, or in any other manner, the combat about to be fought 
against an armed bull by the most illustrious and magnificent 
cavalier Don Diego Manrique de Lara, Count of Paredes.” 

A blast then came from the trumpets, and the spectators of 
every class, — some through courtesy, well knowing that on a 
single false step might depend the life of the intrepid Spaniard ; 
others through fear of the lash, — all remained immovable ; 
and so hushed was the silence, that when the enclosure opened, 
the rattling of the bolt was the only sound that could be heard 
throughout the amphitheatre. The bull came out, but not like 
the others. He was of a smaller frame, short, deep-chested, 
and all black ; but infinitely more furious. He likewise stopped 
short about ten paces from the knight; and fixing his eyes 
on him, began to toss his head and paw up the dirt into the 
air. His adversary, with his sword lifted, was all watchful- 
ness ; for well he knew it might prove fatal to him if the first 
stroke failed. At last the animal started — slowly the first few 
steps, and then, by a sudden plunge, he rushed bellowing, 
with his head lowered, upon Don Garcia. Thinkmg to des- 
patch him as he had the other, he sprang aside a step or two, 
and levelled his blow with tremendous strength — but, either the 
sword not falling on the edge, or the bull making a false step, 
it glanced from the mail, and the animal turned upon him with 
such fury, that the Spaniard had hardly time to plant the point 
of his sword against the corselet of the bull’s head to stop his 
plunge. Here Paredes showed his enormous strength. With 
his legs braced one before the other, the massive sword held 
with both hands — the pommel against his breastplate and the 
point firmly fixed on the forehead of the bull — he held the 
wild beast at bay ! The strong, thick steel resisted the proof — 
but so terrible was the trial to Diego Garcia, the muscles in his 
legs, and particularly in his thighs, swelled and trembled like 
the veins in his neck and forehead ; his face reddened till it 
took the hue of purple, and he bit his lower lip so deeply, his 
chin was bathed in blood. 

Seeing himself thus frustrated, the bull retreated, and when 
he had gained sufficient distance, plunged forward again with 
redoubled fury. Garcia felt maddened with shame for having 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAELETTA. 


145 


(ailed ; he cast a glance like a flash of lightning towards the 
box of La Motte, and he saw a triumphant smile of scorn 
on his face. The sight filled him with such infernal rage, 
that his strength knew no limits ; he raised his sword as high 
as he could reach, and brought it down on the bull’s neck 
with such cleaving ruin, he would have severed it had it been 
solid brass. But this blow, levelled with such phrenzy, did 
not fall straight ; it first lopped ofi* one horn as clean as tliough 
it had been a rush ; then severed the mail and the vertebra;, 
and stopped only with the thick hide of the neck on the lower 
side, which left the head still hung to the body by a piece of 
skin, as the wild beast rolled on the arena. 

At this incredible display of strength, there rose a shout of 
admiration, so deafening and instantaneous, it seemed like a 
burst of thunder. Paredes dropped his sword to his feet, and 
remained immovable a few moments, as the deep vermillion 
on his face changed to a deathlike paleness. But it soon 
passed away. His friends gathered around him with triumph- 
ant greetings ; — one was astonished at his power ; another at the 
strength of his sword ; another at the depth of the wound, or 
the neatness with which the head was severed ; and at the 
same time the band was playing airs of victory. 

The Spaniard had redeemed his pledge — ^now came the turn 
for La Motte. The master-stroke of his antagonist staggered 
him ; he could not hope to equal it, and even should he sus- 
ceed (which was more than doubtful) in severing the naked 
neck of a bull, it would be sure to be esteemed a less praise- 
worthy feat, and his inexperience in this species of combat 
warned him of his probable failure even in such an attempt. 
But he saw that he had at all events gone too far to be able 
to retreat with honor, and his mortification nearly turned his 
brain. 

When the Spaniard came forward to ask him if he was 
ready to enter the arena, he gave a negative and msultiiig 
reply, declarmg that the French knights with a lance in the 
saddle had no equals in the world, and as noble cavaliers they 
would combat and conquer those who vaunted themselves as 
their equals in fair battle— the art of killing bulls they left to 
7 


146 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


villains and serfs — he might therefore take himself off and 
tease him no longer. 

To these insulting words Diego Garcia replied in a still more 
haughty and cutting manner. Both laid their hands on their 
swords, and the disturbance in the box of the cavaliers attracted 
the gaze of Gonzales, the Duke of Nemours and all the spec- 
tators. In a single word another challenge ensued, and Garcia, 
transported with rage, in a high and terrible voice called on 
the French knights to meet him on horse, promising to show 
them that even there they were not only their equals but their 
masters. 

The captains of France and of Spain saw with pleasure the 
martial spirit in their armies, inflamed by these sports, and the 
deeds of the old days sung by poets and troubadours seemed 
about to return. They accorded license also for this challenge, 
and in a few moments the number and names of the combat- 
ants were decided. They were to meet each other ten to ten 
m two days along the sea shore od the road to Bari. But an 
injunction was laid as the condition of the permission, that 
during the day not a word should be spoken of the approach- 
ing combat, that the gaiety of the fetes might not be disturbed. 
The knights on both sides promised to observe this command, 
and shaking each other by the hand in token of their pledge, 
they all returned quietly to their respective places. 

In the meantime the men who had the care of the arena 
dragged off the body of the last bull, and scattering sand and 
sawdust over the spot where he had fallen, every trace of 
blood disappeared. Faiifulla, the chief director, was ordered by 
Gonzales to prepare everything for the tournament. In a few 
minutes a board partition was raised in the form of a wall in 
the middle of the arena, supported by beams morticed before- 
hand for the purpose. It extended across the arena like the 
axis of an ellipse, and was as high as the breast of an ordinary 
man. The two ends did not touch the circumference, and a 
space was left under the boxes to admit the passage of three 
horses abreast. According to this arrangement when a lance 
was to be broken, the two knights took opposite sides, so that 
the partition should be between them, and on the right hand 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


147 


of each combatant. As they spurred on their horses in the 
ring they were to make their passes on the run. This mode 
was easier and less dangerous, for the horse could not mis- 
take his track, and the knight knew the exact spot where he 
would find his adversary. On both sides of the arena was 
placed a hogshead filled with sand in which were standing 
lances of every size, which the combatants were to seize in 
passing when their own were broken, and neither was 
unhorsed. Each one was then to return again to the engage- 
ment, and take the side just occupied by his antagonist. 

When everything was ready, Fanfulla went up to the bal- 
cony where Doima Elvira sat, and told her she was expected to 
give the signal. The daughter of Gonzales threw her hand- 
kerchief into the arena; at the same moment the trumpets 
sounded, and three Spaniards came in on horseback, clothed 
in the brightest burnished steel, with plumes, and richly 
embroidered dresses, all forming a gorgeous spectacle, offering 
to keep the field with three trials of the lance, and two of the 
battle-axe, against any one who would come forward. 

The champions were D. Louis de Correa, Y. Xarcio, Don 
Inigo, Lope de Ayala, and D. Ramon, Blsaco Azevedo. The 
herald preceded them, proclaiming their names, and prohibit- 
ing, as usual, all spectators from participating either by words 
or deeds. The shields of the Spaniards were hung up under 
the balcony of Gonzales, with their names written in letters of 
gold ; while their owners, after riding round the arena, stationed 
them^yes on one side under the great standard, on which 
were mnbroidered the towers and lions of Castile, and the. 
bars of Arragon, which was held by a herald richly dressed, 
and floated over their heads. 

The prize destined for the victor was a helmet richly 
ararnished with a Victory of silver for a crest, holding in one 
hand a palm of gold, and in the other the plume of the helmet 
— it was the work of the chisel of Raffaello del Moro, the 
celebrated Florentine artist. It was placed on the point of a 
lance fixed near the entrance where the three Spaniards had 
passed. 

Bajardo, the mirror and the glory of chivalry, was the first 


148 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


to appear in the lists. He rode a beautiful bay of Normandy, 
with tliree gaily spotted feet, and a black mane. The beautiful 
proportions of his charger, according to the customs of the 
times, were concealed by an immense saddle-cloth, which 
reached from head to tail, of a bright green, with bars of Ver- 
million, with the Knight’s arms embroidered on the shoulder 
and flank, and bordered by a rich drapery which hung down 
to the knees of the horse ; on his head and neck were floating 
masses of plumes of the same colors that were seen on the 
handle of his lance and the plume of his helmet. There was 
nothing peculiar in the proportions of the knight, and from 
what might be judged to be under the armor, he did not even 
promise the ordinary vigor of the warriors of those times. He 
rode in, curbing his horse, which, nettled by the spur, pulled on 
his rein, and proudly pranced on, arching his neck, and turning 
his head from side to side, as his waving tail swept the ground. 

He stopped before Donna Elvira, and lowering his lance to 
salute her, he struck with it three blows upon Inigo’s shield. 
Then passing it into his left hand, which held, already, bridle 
and shield, he took his battle-axe which hung from his belt, 
and touched the shield of Correa ; thus signifying he accepted 
three strokes of the lance with the first, and two of the axe 
with the second. He then drove back to the entrance of the 
amphitheatre. At the same moment Inigo was at his place on 
the side opposite, both with one end of his lance on his thigh 
and the point in the air. Bajardo, who till now had kept his 
visor raised, showing a face so deadly pale, that eveiw one 
was astonished to see him take the field that day, no^^et it 
fall over his face, and had it shut by his esquire, to whom he 
said, that in spite of the ague (under which he had suffered 
for four months) he believed he should not bring dishonor upon 
the French arms that day. 

As the third blast of the clarion sounded, one common spirit 
seemed to animate the two warriors and their steeds. Bending 
on their lances, striking their spurs, and launching on the 
course with the swiftness of an arrow, were simultaneous 
movements, and both knights executed them with equal swift- 
ness and fury. Inigo aimed at the helmet of his antagonist a 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


149 


sure but not an easy blow ; but as he approached him, think- 
ing in the gaze of such an audience it were better to try some- 
tliing that could not fail, he contented himself by shivering his 
lance against his shield. . The French knight, who was perhaps 
the most skilful manager of arms in those times, aimed so sure 
a blow against the visor of Inigo, that had they been standing 
still he could not have struck him fairer. Sparks of fire rolled 
off the helmet, the lance broke two feet from the heel, and the 
Spaniard reeled so far over the left side of his saddle that his 
foot slipped from the stirrups, and he nearly fell to the gomid. 
Bajardo thus bore off the honor of this first encounter. 

The two champions went on their course, to meet on the 
other side ; and Inigo, casting his broken lance in fret to the 
ground, snatched another from the stand as he passed. 

At the second trial the blows were equal ; and Inigo secretly 
doubted, perhaps, if the courtesy of the French knight had not 
prevented him from displaying his full prowess. The third 
time this doubt became certainty. Inigo broke his lance 
against the visor of his enemy, who so lightly brushed his 
gauntlet with his steel, as they passed, that he knew the failure 
was not an accident. The trumpets sounded, and the accla- 
mations and the heralds proclaimed that the yalor of the 
combatants was equal. They rode on, side by side, under the 
balcony of Donna Elvira, to make their reverence, while the 
lady answered them with words of praise. Gonzales did not 
withhold his admiration, nor the Duke of Nemours, who said 
to the champions : 

“ Chevaliers, c’est hel et bon.’'* 

Inigo was one of those who can bear to be surpassed in 
everything else, but never in generosity ; and he recognized 
the courtesy shown to him by B^ardo. But, with that modesty 
which always adorns virtu^Jme French knight resolutely 
denied it, and declared that fte had done his best. Gonzales 
terminated this strife of courtSsy by saying — From your 
v/ords. Cavaliers, some doubt m'ight arise who of you have 
borne the best lance to day ; but one tiling cannot be doubted — 
in all the world, there are none nobler or more generous than 
you.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

At the blast of the trumpet Correa app)eared on the arena, 
armed with a battle-axe and a small round shield, to answer 
the challenge of Bajardo, who had mounted a fresh horse and 
prepared himself for the combat. The two combatants did 
not, as before, dash against each other at full speed, but with 
their reins tightly drawn, and their spurs still, they rode up, at 
a half gallop, till they were nearly together. 

In this trial, velocity of movement could not serve, as in 
hurling a lance, to add impetus to the blow. Merit here con- 
sisted far more in vigor of arm, and in knowing well how to 
manage their horses, that, when they reared, their riders could 
choose the moment of their forward plunge to hurl the blow 
against the enemy’s helmet ; and when this was well done, 
it generally drove from his saddle the man on Avhom it fell. 
At the first encounter, the two steeds, perfectly trained and 
managed, reared and plunged together, and their riders were 
so entirely protected by their shields, they could neither of 
them be struck as they passed. The second meeting had the 
same result. Perceivmg the play of his adversary, Bajardo 
came on the third time with greater fury, and Correa met him 
with the same violence : but when they had nearly reached 
each other, the Frenchman, by a sudden movement, threw 
his horse back on his hauncl^es, just at the moment his enemy, 
who, expecting nothing of the kind, had lifted his weapon into 
the air, and levelled a blow which fell without effect. Bajardo 
seized the moment, and raising his weapon with incredible 
swiftness with both hands, as he drove the spurs into his horse 
and rose in the saddle, he struck a terrible blow upon the hel- 
met of Correa, which brought him down on the neck of his 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


151 


horse ; and when the spectators were waiting for him to raise 
up his head, he rolled senseless to the ground, and was borne 
by his esquires from the arena. Bajardo also went out, saluting 
the balcony of Donna Elvira, amidst the plaudits of the whole 
amphitheatre, while the blasts of the clarion sounded his vic- 
tory. He was soon recalled, however, to combat Azevedo, 
who had come forward to take up the challenge of his com- 
panion. The contest was long and nobly disputed ; but the 
French cavalier finally won the day. 

Outside the entrance to the amphitheatre a large enclosure 
had been prepared, where the knights who entered the lists 
could keep their horses and servants, and arm themselves for 
the combat. Here Gonzales had provided all that was neces- 
sary for their engagements. There were several tables to 
place arms on, a forge and a small portable furnace to adjust 
any portion of armor, and, last of all, a buffet of food and wine. 
Brancaleone had been charged to see that nothing was want- 
ing, and every service rendered, the occasion might require. 
While he was at his post, Grajano d’Asti, whom he recognized 
as the man he had seen when he bore with Fieramosca the 
challenge to the French CEunp, arrived, with two esquires, who 
carried his armor and led ii^is battle-horse. Brancaleone, who, 
as usual, had till now said very little, stepped forward to greet 
Grajano, and received him with more courtesy than he was 
accustomed to show. f)ne who knew him would have be- 
lieved, to have seen him then, he was moved by some conceal- 
ed motive in his cordial greeting. He had, in fact, an object 
to accomplish of no little importance, as will presently appear. 

After the first reception, and proffers of services, he accom- 
modated him with all he could desire, and drew him into 
conversation, while his esquires aided him in taking off the 
rich robes in which he was dressed, to make way for his close- 
fitting garments of skin, over which a suit of armor was to 
be worn. That of Grajano was beautifully variegated by 
stripes of gold over the burnished steel, which lay in pieces 
on the table. Brancaleone examined it, piece by piece, with 
great attention, and taking in his hand the breast-plate, to 
aid in putting it on the cavalier, he observed it was made of 


152 


THE challenge OF BAIILETTA. 


double plates of steel, which seemed impenetrable. The 
cuirass was double, and of equal strength — he took up the 
arm-pieces, the thigh-plates and greaves, and his practised 
eye saw they would resist every proof. 

While he was making this examination, a sagacious observer 
would have detected a certain strange expression around his 
forehead, and a curious smile around his mouth — but there 
was no one who saw him at that moment. The helmet only 
remaining, to complete his equipments, Brancaleone took it 
iipi and examining it, soon discovered it did not correspond in 
strength with the rest of the armour, and he asked Grajano if 
he was not accustomed to wear, underneath, a tight-fitting 
head-piece of iron. Being told he did not, he demanded why, 
after covering the rest of his body with such impenetrable 
armour, he should not take equal precaution in the defence of 
his head. 

“ Because,” replied Grajano, “ at the assault of a contempt- 
ible castle, worth about three quattrini (and that fool, the 
Duke of Montpensier, was bent on taking it), while I was 
placing a ladder to mount the wall, one of the Abruzzesi 
villains who defended it threw ^own a stone upon my 
head, which crushed my helmet, and cut a hole into my head 
which will most likely close up entirely, when they throw the 
last spadeful of dirt on to me — look here !” Suiting the action 
to the word, he took his hand, and lifting it to the top of his 
head, put one of his fingers into a gash in the cranium, which 
plainly showed he once wore a thick helmet. 

“ For this wound, hang the devil who gave it me, I lost 
many a shining ducat ; for I was obliged to leave King Charles, 
and stay several months in Rome, till I was restored. True, 
indeed,” he added, laughing, “ that occasion served to rid me 
of the encumbrance of a certain wife I had * * so you see 
there was a little good and a little evil in the business. I 
afterwards entered the pay of that villain, Valenza, until, as 
God had willed it, I returned to the French, and with them 
I find, at least, it don’t always rain or snow on our head, and 
at the end of every month there roll out as handsome florins 
as the bank Martelli of Florence can furnish.” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


153 


“ But this helmet,” replied Brancaleone ; “ how would it 
resist a heavy blow ?” 

“ Oh I” answered Grajano, “as to that I give myself very 
little trouble. First of all, it’s Damascus steel, and of a temper 
that ’ll defy the world to better ; and then I tell thee that when 
I find in battle those who want to brush away the flies from 
my face, I make such a use of my shield, that he must be a 
brave fellow who gets near enough to do it. Look,” said he, 
showing the shield and the chain by which he fastened it to 
his neck, “ look how I hold it at arms-length to have full room 
to swing,” 

Brancaleone made no further reply ; again he observed most 
carefully the helmet, turning it round on all sides,’ and sounding 
it with his knuckles in a way peculiarly his own; he then 
opened it and adjusted it himself to the knight’s head. 

During this time the battle had been going on between the 
three Spaniards and Bajardo, in the manner we have already 
related. The latter had come off conqueror, and entered the 
tent just as Grajano had finished his armor, and was preparing 
to mount his horse. The Knight of Asti addressed some 
courteous words to the victor, and perceiving Brancaleone was 
not giving heed to their conversation, he asked him how much 
the prowess of their adversaries was worth. Taking off his 
iron gauntlets and helmet, and throwing them down on the 
table as the sweat streamed from his brow, he replied : 

“ Don Inigo de Ayala, honne lance, foi de chevalier.'” And even 
to the rest he accorded the praises he felt were due them, and 
he gave some hints to the warrior who was going out to com- 
bat about the way he should conduct himself, that all might 
not be lost, 

Grajano entered the arena well mounted on a beautiful black 
charger, covered with an orange saddle-cloth, with a herald 
before him, proclaiming his name in a loud voice. The knight 
then rode under the balcony of Gonzales, and struck with his 
lance three times upon the shields of Azevedo and Inigo, When 
Fiearamosca heard that name pronounced, an instantaneous 
and involuntary tremor ran through every fibre of his body. 
He was again stung with remorse for having concealed from 

7 # 


154 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Ginevra that he was alive ; and as all men are more ready to 
make good resolutions when the execution of them is left to 
the future, he determined to unfold everything to her at their 
first meeting. 

The combat meanwhile began, and the Piedmontese, who 
was esteemed one of the first combatants in strength and skill 
in managing weapons, obtained a decided advantage over 
Azevedo, although he did not unhorse him, and even in his 
encounter with Inigo, he bore himself so well, the universal 
decision was in his favor. A number of French knights fol- 
lowed him, De La Paline, Chandenier, Obigni, and last of all. La 
Motte, who had become so enraged by his encounter -with 
Diego Garcia about the bull, that he astonished by his feats the 
whole amphitheatre. 

To tell the truth, the three Spaniards, who had undertaken 
, to defend the field, had the worst, and they were forced 
themselves to confess they had attempted a work for which 
their power gave them no justification, in calling out the best 
swords of the French army. But Inigo and Azevedo were still 
in the saddle, and Grajano, who had already combated them 
once, appeared against them again. He was probably not 
a little favored by their exhaustion after so many encoun- 
ters, but however this may have been, he had the fortune of 
bringing the tournament to a close, and was declared the victor 
of the day. He received from the hands of Donna Elvira, the 
gorgeous helmet, as the reward of his victory, with the blasts 
of the trumpets, and the acclamations of the whole amphi- 
theatre. 

The fete being finished, Gonzales rose, and accompanied by 
his daughter, the Captain of France, and the train of barons, 
he returned to the castle, where the tables were being prepared 
for the approaching banquet. The arena and amphitheatre 
were soon emptied of spectators who went in crowds, visitors 
and citizens, to their respective houses, or to the inns of the 
town, particularly to Veleno’s, who had made his preparations 
to entertain his guests where they could gossip over the varied 
incidents of the day. 

On the morning of this day in which fortune had prepared 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


155 


so many bitter strokes for Ginevra, she woke an hour later 
than usual. Distracted more wildly than ever by her torment- 
ing reflections, she had only fallen to sleep after daylight, and 
when she slept, a hundred wild fantasies crowded on her 
brain. Now she saw Fieramosca wounded and turning his eye 
glazing in death to her for help — agam she saw him come off 
conqueror, crowned with glory, standing among barons, and 
casting a contemptuous glance on her as he turned to another 
fair one and gave his right hand. And yet, when she slept, 
she comforted herself by saying : — “ Oh ! how happy I am, this 
is only a dream.” But she shuddered, for she seemed even to 
hear the revelry of the bridal banquet of Ettore, the gay chiming 
of bells, and the thunder of artillery. At last the noise came 
rushing towards the balcony that looked out on Barletta. She 
saw that if all the rest were a dream, the noise which had 
woke her was a reality. She sat up in bed, and drawing out 
from under the counterpanes her delicate round foot, white as 
snow, she hid it in' a Vermillion slipper, while she laced a blue 
dress ovei her chemise, and threw her long chestnut hair back 
of her shoulders. She rose and seated herself under the vine- 
leaves of the balcony, gazing on the majestic picture which 
lay before her, as her eyes were dazzled by the light pouring 
down from the serene limpid heavens. 

The sun which had already been risen for two hours, bathed 
the shore of the sea, the castle, and the city, with a flood of 
light. From time to time globes of pearl-colored smoke, 
streaked with tongues of fire, burst forth over the old towers 
and battlements, and glittering pure white in the rays of the 
sun, changed into a thousand involutions as they went wreath- 
ing up into heaven. A few moments after the report came 
pealing over the water, and went rolling in broken undulations 
along the shores of the sea, till it finally lost itself in a faint 
echo among the distant ravines of the mountains. The castle 
and the city for a while enveloped in smoke, shortly borne 
away by the breeze from the ocean, lay shadowed on the 
bosom of the calm blue sea, which slept so tranquilly, their 
outline was perfectly distinct in the tremulous water. The 
sound of the bells and the instruments came full or faintly, as 


156 


THE cnALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


the breeze wafted it on ; and m the repose of the convent, at 
intervals, even the huzzas and acclamations of the people for 
the Captain of Spain could be distinctly heard. But neither 
these notes of universal gladness, nor the smiling picture under 
her eye could dispel the gloom which oppressed Ginevra’s 
spirit. 

To the sting of remorse another equally terrible had been 
added — the suspicion of being betrayed by him for whom she 
had made the immense sacrifice of turnmg a deaf ear to the 
voice of conscience, and the calls of duty. It was a doubt her 
soul spumed, and her heart abhorred ; but the doubt had at 
last arisen, and he who has made the trial may say, if doubt 
can be dissipated as easily as it can be begotten. And in tmth, 
were what she feared entirely false, many a circumstance had 
conspired to give it the appearance of tmth. 

Although Ettore had succeeded in concealing from her his 
meeting with Grajaiio, yet, accustomed as he had always 
been to reveal to her everything, he could not so perfectly 
deceive her, that she should not discover he had some secret 
in his heart he did not wish entirely to disclose. And besides, 
the great change she had observed in the manner of Zoraide, 
had planted another thorn in her heart, which she tried in vain 
to eradicate. “ Who,” thought she, “ can assure me that even 
Ettore himself had not made the discovery ? Who knows but 
he loves her ?” And when she sought to draw from all these 
arguments some conclusion, she lost herself in a labyrinth of 
doubts, from which she could not escape. 

Weary of her own thoughts, she rose to seek some one to 
converse with, to try to forget such harassing reflections. She 
looked for Zoraide, and she was not in the house — she de- 
scended to the garden, but still she found her not. She in- 
quired for her in the convent of the few who still remained, but 
no one knew where she was. She felt a weight fall on her 
heart, and a thousand misty suspicions clouded her brain. 
In her search she had gone as far as the tower which guarded 
the entrance to the island. She found it utterly abandoned — 
not a single guard was left—the Couestabile had gone to the 
town, and was soon followed by every one of his men. She 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


157 


passed the bridge, and walked some distance aiong the shore 
with the sea on her right, and on her left the slopes of the 
mountains covered with thick bushes. She walked on slowly, 
her mind too absorbed in bitter thoughts to heed what was 
taking place around her. She was suddenly surprised by a 
noise she heard in the bushes, and frightened by the sight of a 
man creeping forth covered with bloody rags all lacerated by 
thorns, with his long tangled hair dangling over his face. He 
raised himself up with difficulty, and then fell again upon his 
knees. She thought she would fly, but she boldly resolved 
not to do it. Looking carefully upon the poor creature who 
had thus mysteriously appeared before her, she gradually 
recognized the features of the Capo-banda Pietraccio, whom, 
according to the advice of Don Michele, she had involuntarily, 
with Fieramosca, aided in making his escape. The matter 
had succeeded just as this creature of Valentino had forewarned 
him ; for while they were trying to render some help to his 
mother, Pietraccio had seized his chance, and escaped by the 
stairway, and afterwards through the door. For although he 
was wounded and pursued by several of the guar^li he jiad 
succeeded, by means of his dagger, in making his escape, /hnd 
practised as he was in such tricks he had concealed Tiimself 
in the bushes, where he eluded all search. To escape the 
hands of those who were on his track he was obliged to live 
miserably concealed in the deepest thickets of the wood ; and 
now finding himself by chance near one he could not fear and 
who he hoped would prove his liberator, half dead with ex- 
haustion and famine he threw himself on her mercy, with signs 
to make her acquainted with his misery, which his aspect too 
clearly demonstrated. Ginevra’s dread and compassion were 
aroused at the sight of the wretch, and she told him to fear 
nothing, for in the convent there were none but the nuns, and 
as the tower was not guarded he could come with her and 
she would conceal him in a secret place under her house till 
he was recovered. The assassin, who would perhaps have 
chosen death itself rather than his present misery, followed 
her, and, without being seen, reached his hiding-place ; where 
the compassionate Ginevra furnished him with food and 


158 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


bandaged up his wounds, which, although light, needed a 
remedy, and with a little straw she prepared him a bed. She 
went back again to the house just as Zoraide and Gennaro re- 
turned from Barletta. She could not refrain from administer- 
ing to her friend a gentle reproof for having left without saying 
to her a word. 

“ My Zoraide — I have suffered great solicitude in searching 
for thee in vain in every part of the island — Why didst thou 
not tell me thou wert going away ?” 

“ Not to awake thee,” answered Zoraide — but the insincerity 
of this reply tinged her cheek with a light blush which did 
not escape the eyes of Ginevra — she continued — “ I set out 
this morning very early with Gennaro * * and” 

“ And yesterday evening,” replied Ginevra, smiling, “ thou 
didst not know thou wert going to the tournament ?” 

This interrogation, so pointedly spoken, brought a shade of 
displeasure over Zoraide’s face who briefly replied : — 

“Yes, * * I had an idea of it,” * * and then resuming the 
thread of conversation which had been interrupted, she con- 
tinued— ‘^or a long time I have desired a sight of such games 
to see if tliey really surpass so much those of the Arabs — But 
praise God ! what is done here by knights and nobles is done 
with us by slaves, and no one of our chiefs would expose his 
life to amuse three or four thousand of the lowest populace.” 

Aware that Zoraide had resorted to this ruse to. avoid a more 
minute account of her visit to the town, Ginevra insisted no 
farther, and simply replied : “ Well, it appears the tournament 
has been beautiful.” 

“ Beautiful ? I’ll tell you,” exclaimed Gennaro, who was 
dying with agony to play off the historian, and beginning with 
the departure of Gonzales from the castle, he described as well 
as he could the gorgeous splendor of the barons ; and then, 
with the idea of saying something that would prove par- 
ticularly agreeable, continued with a toss of the head and a 
smack of the lips, as his hands kept his cap in a ceaseless 
whirl : 

“ If you had but seen your brother on the back of that silver- 
colored horse ! Everybody exclaimed, oh ! what a handsome 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


159 


young knight! and to tell the truth with that splendid blue 
mantle he was a real picture. I was half crushed to death 
following on with the crowd out of the gate. There was need 
of good elbows I tell you. Yes ! but when the daughter of 
Gonzales descended from her litter, I was as near to her as I 
am to you, and Sig. Ettore aided her to mount her horse; 
but I’ll describe it better, she stepped one foot on his knee, and 
one of her little feet so, you see (and to show the measure he 
held out his right thumb, marking off the end with his forefin- 
ger), and up she went like a cricket ; and do you know what 
I tell you, your brother wasn’t a very disagreeable companion 
for her neith^, when she was in the saddle ; she said some 
flattering things to him, and she poured out her smiles on him. 
Happy the man on whom they were bestowed, and, as for him, 
why he couldn’t help blushing, and God only knows what 
passed between them, but thinks I to myself, it looks as 
though Sig.-Ettore had an idea of becoming a married man, 
and I tell you they ’d make a beautiful match, they seem to be 
made expressly for each other.” 

The reader may decide for himself how agreeable aU^^is 
was to Ginevra. Unable to endure his gossip any longer, and 
wishing to get away from him, she briefly replied : 

“ Yes, yes i * * * but you may tell me all about it another 
time,” and then turned to accompany Zoraide to their apart- 
ment. But Gennaro’s tongue was too well started to be sud- 
denly stopped, and on he went. 

“ But all this is nothing ! you ought to have seen him at the 
tournament in the knights’ box, always by her side, and both of 
them doing nothing but talk, talk all the while, and here’s Signora 
Zoraide who will tell you that everybody there noticed it. 
Besides, there was the host of the inn, who provided the cas- 
tle with wine, and he said her father was determined the mar- 
riage should take place ; it would be a grand affair, don’t you 
think so ? oh ! how many thousand bright ducats ! A little 
better this than to spend a life in the saddle, in rain and in 
storm ?” 

To put an end to this chattering, which wounded her too 


160 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


deeply, although she- was conscious her own vanity was at 
fault, Ginevra responded : 

“ But the tournament, how went the tournament ?” 

“Oh the tournament! such a sight, as Barletta never saw 
before?” And here commencing with the bull-fight and the 
prowess of Don Garcia, he described the combats with battle- 
axes and lances, repeating the names announced by the 
heralds. His memory served him even too well, and when he 
was about concluding he said : 

“ But the one who finished the tournament, and unhorsed 
the three Spaniards one after the other, was Sig. D. Grajano 
d’Asti.” 

“ Who ! who I” exclaimed Ginevra, with an agitation of 
voice she could not conceal. 

“ A certain Sig. D. Grajano d’Asti ; he must be a great 
baron, for his armor and dress alone were a fortune.” 

“ Grajano d’Asti, sayest thou ? Large ? Small ? Young ? how 
was he ?” 

Gennaro, who had not overlooked the most minute point of 
th^arms, the physiognomy or aspect of one of the combatants, 
and recalling perfectly the features of Grajano, which he had 
exposed by entering the arena with a raised visor, gave so 
graphic a picture of the knight, that the last doubt was removed 
from Ginevra’s mind, that he was her hu^and. But she had 
sufficient control over herself, partly to conceal her agitation, 
and to feel the infinite importance of remaining undiscovered. 
While Gennaro was trying to give her an exact idea of the 
form and features of the baron, she had time to recover her 
self-possession, and conscious that her two listeners had re- 
marked her agitation when she heard that name pronounced, 
she endeavored to dissipate their suspicion by saying, as the 
gardener concluded : 

“ You need not be astonished I was agitated when I heard 
his name ; strange occurrences once took place between him 
and my house, they were all happily terminated at last, and 
every occasion for scandal has long ago passed away ; but I 
would sooner have expected anything else, rather than to hear 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


161 


of him here in Barletta, and last of all in the pay of the 
French.” 

When she had said these words, she turned to go to her 
room. From the perceptible change which gradually spread 
over her countenance, Zoraide and Gennaro could not but 
discover that some harrowing thought of deep importance dis- 
tressed her, but they refrained from following her. When she 
had left them the gardener said to the maiden : 

“ I think she feels ill. Perhaps I ’ve said something 1 ought 
not to have done.” 

Zoraide, who was thinking of something quite the contrary, 
and could neither herself define the thoughts or suspicions 
which agitated her, answered only by a shrug of the shoulders 
and turned away, desiring, no less than Ginevra, to be left alone. 
Gennaro, left standing with his hat still in his hand, went off 
about his business grumbling : 

“ Oh ! they’re all alike, and the fellow who can understand 
them must be a brave one.” 

Ginevra, in the meantime, had begun to mount the stairway 
to her chamber, but at every step she felt as though the burden 
of a world had been thrown on her shoulders. Her respiration 
became shorter, and her heart beat so violently, she almost 
fainted ; she murmured continually, “ OA, Virgin Mother y help 
me and at last her desperation became so overwhelming, she 
could only utter, “my God! my God!’* She had hardly been 
able to mount the fourth step, when her knees gave way, and 
she fell down exhausted. Her breathing was hurried and 
broken, and as the cold sweat of a spasm rolled from her 
forehead, she thought, “ To-morrow morning I shall not be 
alive.” She had heard Zoraide pass round to her room on the 
other side and shut herself in, and she knew that the nuns had 
retired from the heat of the afternoon to repose themselves in 
their cells ; but still the fear of being discovered where she was, 
added still more to her agony, and to escape all risk, she 
abandoned the thought of trying to get up to her room, and 
resolved to pass by the private postern of the cloister, and 
seek refuge in the church, where she felt she must then go, if 
ever, to implore help from on high. She bent her way to the 


162 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


place as well as she could, supporting herself by the walls 
part of the time, and then trying to walk on as usual, seeing 
occasionally some novice passing along the galleries, or the 
hood of a nun from the wmdow. 

There was no one in the church, and she sank down on the 
first bench of the choir near by, and sat for some time, with 
her head reposing in her hands and her elbows resting on her 
knees, to gather strength; while a confused train of images 
rushed so wildly through her mind, all thought was banished. 
Behind the grand altar, a flight of marble steps descended to a 
small subterranean chapel, where five lamps of silver were 
kept burning day and night, before an image of the mother of 
God, believed universally to have been painted by St. Luke. 
The miracles said to have been performed in this place, had 
given origin, in after times, to the construction of the church 
and the convent. The chapel was in the form of a hexagon ; 
and on the side facing the stairs were the altar and the image. 
At each angle, a column, surmounted with capitals of large 
leaves, sculptured in antique style, supported one of the 
groins of the vault, which all united at the top to sustain a 
a large flat stone, with an aperture in the centre of the size of 
a cubit, covered by an iron grating, which opened in the 
church above on the platform before the principal altar. A 
bright ray of the sun, which entered through the stained glass 
of one of the large windows in the vault, found its way through 
the grating mto the chapel below. In the form of a distinct 
ray, it penetrated the dark gloom of the place, partially dis- 
pelled only by the red and feeble light of the lamps, and left on 
the floor the form of the gratmg, and the colors of the window 
through which it had passed. Ginevra descended, and in go- 
ing forward to kneel at the foot of the altar, this bright sun- 
beam struck her blue robe as she passed under the vault, and 
for a moment lit up, like a flickering lamp, every part of the 
chapel. 

With her hands pressed close to her bosom, and her eyes 
fixed on the picture, she began to pray. By degrees she felt 
the throbbing of her pulses diminish, and her bosom grow 
calm from its heavings. Her prayers were not so distinctly 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


163 


Uttered in words as conceived in her heart, but they gave 
peace to her troubled spirit. 

Like all very ancient images, on the countenance of the Ma- 
donna was depicted a melancholy so divine and august, it 
seemed to the youthful but afflicted supplicant, to feel compas- 
sion for her suffering; and she gazed on it so long and so 
earnestly, she seemed to see a flash of life in the eyes which 
inspired her with a holy awe — but still she was comforted. 

“ Glorious and Holy Virgin,” she at last murmured, struggling 
with deep feelings, “ who am I, that I should merit thy com- 
passion ? And yet to whom can I go for help but to thee ? I 
lay my sorrows at thy feet. Thou seest I cannot bear up 
against this trial, nor am I worthy to be delivered from it. Oh ! 
compassionate Virgin, nerve my heart with power to do all I 
would love to do ! ” And with her eyes still fixed on the 
Virgin as the tears bathed her cheeks and breast, she remained 
a long time, casting herself on her who would be called the 
mother and the consoler of the afflicted, and she learned by 
experience how much still remained for one that has lost all 
hope on earth, when he turns confidently to Heaven. 

Memory brought back to her all the hours of her existence, 
the pure joys of childhood, the affections of youth, the first 
time she listened to words of love, the first time she felt 
remorse, and all the train of sorrows and woes that over- 
whelmed her after she became a wife. She recalled her last 
years which had been a continued scene of short stolen joys 
(and even these had been mingled with sorrows), of hours of 
bitterness and poignant remorse. And now above all, she 
saw, as if awaking from a lengthened dream, in whose elysium 
she had till that hour been wandering, that Ettore could never 
be torn from her heart. And when shuddering at the full view 
of her sins, and almost determining to follow the voice of God, 
which called her, and yet when it seemed impossible to her to 
resolve, behold the Divine Will proclaiming itself on high, and 
leading her, almost by force, upon the road she must struggle 
on by bringing her in this unlooked-for manner to find her 
husband. “ Every doubt,” she said, “ is now removed. While 
1 could believe he was no longer alive, I might perhaps excuse 


164 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


myself; but can I be the Avretch any longer to continue the path 
I have trod ?” 

Here a new and miforeseen obstacle presented itself. 

“ And when I come to stand before him and he asks me, 

‘ where hast thou been till now ?’ ” 

It was not easy to find the answer. Struck with this 
thought, it seemed to her so absolutely impossible to resolve to 
encounter the gaze of her judge, that she banished the idea 
in a^ single moment, and gave herself up to seek some way 
of escape from the dark labyrinth. But the longer she 
reflected the more clearly she saw that the very step to which 
she felt the most unconquerable repugnance, was the only 
one she could and ought to take, and she said to herself, 
“ But of whom can I complain but myself ? Had I but acted 
as I ought I should never have been brought to this bitter 
humiliation, and the longer it’s deferred the more bitter it 
will be.” 

Gmevra’s mind was vigorous ; she was consequently an 
enemy of irresolution, and she at last firmly said : “ Can I 
always be the victim of such remorse ? Can I cast away the 
hope and extinguish the terrors of a future life ? No ! Then 
T will do right without thinking of the consequences. The 
agonies I am going to encounter wilt only be the expiation of 
my errors, and thou. Divine Mother, have pity on me in this 
world and in the world to come. If Grajano will not pardon 
me what can he do at the worst ? Kill me ? My immortal 
spirit win take its flight to God, and bear with it fruits of , 
penitence to win mercy and pardon.” 

After another most fervent prayer, she ascended to the church 
with firm and rapid steps, as if she could thus strengthen her 
purpose, and went directly to her apartment, where she shut 
herself in to resolve upon the best mode of executing her reso- 
lution. She seated herself, as usual, at the balcony which 
looked towards Barletta, and began to reflect. She could not 
think of a better day to return to her husband, for she was 
certain to find him at the banquet of the castle, where she 
could easily go in half an hour by sea. If she waited till his 
return to the French camp, the difficulties would be doubled. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


165 


“ Yes,” she exclaimed, “ all doubt is over — before to-morrow 
I must be with him. * * * But what shall I do to Ettore ? 

To-day he certainly will not come — wait ? I cannot leave the 
island and abandon him, without his knowing what has be- 
come of me. And all this to the one to whom I owe my life ?” 
Here sprung up a thought worthy of a soul like hers. “ If,” 
said she to herself, “ in leaving him, I let him know what my 
heart feels towards him at this moment, I know but too well 
he ’ll not have one hour more of peace while he lives. But if 
instead I go without telling him the reason, he will think me 
false, and my memory he will curse, and soon drive from his 
heart.” She could not support the reflection, and with a sigh 
she exclaimed, “ Oh, my sins are great, but my punishment, 
too, is dreadful.” 

Moved by that restless anxiety which attends a shock like 
this, she rose, wiped away the tears with the back of the 
hand, and began to place together the few things she wished 
to carry with her. In looking through the drawers, some 
pieces of the blue satin of Fieramosca’s mantle, with the silver 
thread with which it was embroidered, fell under her hands. 
The reader may imagine the feelings that filled Ginevra’s heart 
at the sight. 

Her first impulse was to- take them with her, but the next 
moment she laid them down saying, “No, * * every thought 
of him must now be blotted from my heart, and for ever. To 
know I have made him happy must be my only comfort here 
below.” 

She wrote a note to the abbess, thanking her in few words 
for her hospitality, and recommended her friend Zoraide to her 
protection. She told her that a pressing motive compelled 
her to leave without taking a farewell, and she hoped soon to 
be in a situation where she could give her a more satisfactory 
account of her conduct. Having performed this last office, 
nothing more remained for her to do in the convent, but she 
did not wish to leave before evening. The sun was still more 
than an hour high, and she sat down by the balcony, and 
patiently waited for night to come on. But she could not have 
chosen a more trying way to pass those wretched moments. 


166 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


She cast her eyes around the room, and the sight of the small 
package she had laid on the table, the sole companion of her 
dreary flight, gave her a sad foretaste of the sorrows prepared 
for her. When she looked at the bed neatly made up as it 
always was by one of the novices, she thought she had the 
evening before lain down in it for the last time, and God only 
knew where she would lay her head for the night approach- 
ing. Still more painful wa.s the view from the balcony — when 
she gazed on the expanse of sea, that lay between her and the 
castle of Barletta, she thought how many times she had strained 
her eyes to catch the first sight of the little boat of Fieramosca 
moving over the dim water. And now she was herself to sail 
over those same waters to go — where ? * * * * 


CHAPTER XIV. 


While Ginevra, in her anguish, was longing for and fearmg 
the approach of night, Pietraccio, concealed in a receptacle for 
wood under her room, awaited her coming with suspicion and 
impatience, hoping that, under the cover of night, she would 
show him a way of escape. 

The window which let in a little light from above was 
on a level with the ground, and looked out on a deserted spot 
back of the convent overgrown with weeds and briars, where 
it seemed likely no person would ever go ; but the brigand 
was startled by the sound of the steps rustling in the grass, 
and his fear was greatly increased when he saw a man, whom 
he instantly recognized, stop close to the window. It was the 
Coriestabile of the tower. He would nave tried to conceal 
himself behind some piles of wood ; but the fear of being be- 
trayed by stepping over the dry sticks, kept him still where he 
was, holding his very breath for fear. He heard the follow- 
ing words pass between the Conestabile and his compa- 
nion : — 

“ Look here,” began the Conestabile, “ this window in the 
first story where you see the bird-cage and the vase of flowers. 
You can very well see that, even without a ladder, it’s easy 
to climb up by the grating of the window of the ground story. 
Well, * * when you are up, you will find yourself in a long 
passage with a good many doors, but don’t make a mistake — 
the first on the left hand is the room of Madonna ; and then, 
there’s nobody else in the stranger’s apartment. An hour after 
dark, all the nuns are in bed. If you want to do it up right, 
come here about eleven, and you can carry her off, and get 
out a mile to sea before they know what you are about. 


168 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


The dogs I’ll shut up. I’ve given liberty to my men; and if 
anybody wants to find them to-night, he must hunt for them 
through the taverns of Barletta. So, I don’t see but you have 
everything ready ; but go careful and tell that devil, your com- 
panion, to mind what he’s about ; for. I’m not going, for a few 
florins, to be obliged to lose my commission from the abbess ; 
so be careful, for if the expedition fails, I ’ve got more than one 
way of turning the broth unto you. I shall take care it don’t 
come on my shoulders. Plain dealing makes good friends.” 

Boschermo, to whom this conversation had been directed, 
pulled the Conestabile lightly by the end of his moustache, . 
and s^id, shaking his head : — ■' - 

“ To turn any hot-broth down on the head of the devil that’s 
at the bottom of this business, you’d have to get up a little 
higher in the world than you ever got yet, and wield a little 
stronger arm. And you may thank S. Martino, that the castle 
of Barletta is no nearer, and that a certain person in it did n’t hear 
your words ; for, it’s no surer we are in April, than that he’d 
make you think you was in January. Harkee, my good fellow, 
let this business go well or ill, the less you say about it the 
better it will be for you.” 

Martino, who had been at the banquet of Gonzales, at Bar- 
letta, and drank till his heart was bold as a lion’s, courageously 
replied : — 

“ And I repeat it to you, I don’t know what fear means ; and 
if I have stooped to do him this service, I’ve done it more be- 
cause we soldiers are in the habit of doing such things for one 
another, than for those few ducats; and I’m quite certain I 
don’t relish the idea of breaking my neck and losing my head, 
for a fellow I never saw. So I talk plain : go careful ; for I 
tell you again, if you are discovered I have a way to clear my- 
self ; and whoever the man may be that has set this business 
agoing, when I’m safe in my tower I’ll laugh at him. Well, 
we understand each other — addio / ” 

After making this speech, he walked off towards the tower, 
leaving Boscherino to examine the place at his leisure. He 
turned back upon him a single look of grimacing compassion. 




i 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


169 


iind could not refrain from uttering, in a voice loud enough to 
l>e lieard by Pietraccio, — 

“ Poor ass ! Let him take care who pits himself against 
Caesar Borgia : he’ll find he’s dealing with a man who slakes 
the thirst of his friends with salt. Yes, it’s the Greek wine tliat 
speaks for him to-day !” 

These last words, no less than the whole preceding dia- 
logue, were heard with breathless attention, and perfectly un- 
derstood, by the assassin ; and they satisfied him they were 
plotting a commission of Valentino to ravish his protectress, 
and that the Duke himself was at the castle of Barletta. It 
may be believed, without doing injustice to Pietraccio, that the 
intention of defending his benefactress was not his first thought 
— for what did he know of gratitude ? — but the hope of frus- 
trating this last infernal plot of the great foe of himself and 
his mother. Another desire, more atrocious, of being able, 
perhaps, to reach him in the confusion and crowd of the 
festa, and stab him to the heart, made his blood boil with de- 
moniac joy. Boscherino had hardly left the place, before he 
rose from his concealment; and unsheathing the keen, slim 
poniard given him by Don Michele, he ran the end of his 
finger over the edge, grinding his teeth ; and then he made a 
pass, as though he were levelling a back stroke. His next 
tliought was, how he could get safely to Barletta. 

The Ave-Maria sounded from the convent. Half an hour 
after, he slowly mounted the steps, opened the door, and look- 
ing around he saw the whole place deserted ; but to reach the 
main land, it were too hazardous an experiment to attempt to 
pass over the bridge under the tower ; and thinking the narrow 
strip of water, between the island and the shore, ofiered a 
surer passage (about a hundred cubits in width), he descended 
the stairway to the water. Here he stripped himself; and 
making a bundle of his clothes, which he bound to his head, 
lie entered the water, and in a few moments swam to the shore 
without being seen or lieard. It was already dark ; and with- 
out suspicion of danger, he wiped himself, and, dressing 
hastily, went on with a rapid gait to the city. 

Diego Garcia di Paredes had scarcely terminated the dispute 
8 


170 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


which his astonishing display of prowess against tne bull had 
given risQ to with the French knights, when he bethought him- 
self of an important commission entrusted to him by Gonzales, 
and he withdrew hastily from the amphitheatre. He had been 
charged to have an eye upon the arrangements of the sump- 
tuous dimier to be given that day at the castle. The hour had 
almost arrived, and he was soon in the kitchen. Still boiling 
with the rage stirred up by the insulting words of La Motte* 
his appearance among the cooks and servants who were busy 
in the midst of smoking viands, was like that of a man not very 
likely to overlook any blunder or inadvertency in his inferiors. 

“ Well,” said he, as he stopped before the door, folding his 
arms across his heart, “ shall we be ready soon ? Everythuig 
must be on the table in less than an hour.” 

The chief cook, a fat lusty fellow, stood by the great table 
in the centre of the kitchen, putting game on the spits with that 
crabbed look so common to his class in similar circumstances, 
even when everything is going on well ; but he had more par- 
ticular occasion just now for getting into a fret ; he was out of 
wood, his cooking could not go on, and he feared the perilous 
consequence of retarding the dimier, and not being able to 
send it up at the hour appointed. Every one who knows the 
jealousy of a cook for his honor, may easily imagine his state 
of mind when the Spaniard addressed him the above inquiry. 
He would not have answered the Pope at that moment, but he 
knew he must give an answer to Paredes. He raised his head, 
and shaking the spit he held in his hand, said : 

“ The devil has run his horns mto us, Sig. Don Diego, — 
the devil from hell, * * this traitor major-domo has left me 
without wood ! Pve sent as many of these poltroons as I 
could spare to hunt up some, wherever they could lay their 
hands on it ; and hang ’em all, not a knave of them has shown 
his face here again.” And he finished his speech with the sigh, 
or we should say grunt, of a man who has done his utmost. 

“ Wood or no wood,” cried out Paredes ; “ Voto a Dios, by 
heaven, I swear if thou art not ready in time, thou majadero 
(scoundrel), son of a wretch”— * * on he went with a tirade 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


171 


of similar threats against the cook, who could bear it no longer 
without retorting. 

“ Oh, Excellency ! teach me how to roast flesh without fire.” 
Diego was not a man to vent his rage long on a poor fellow 
who has right on his side, and although the cook’s reply 
stirred him a little at first, he soon felt the truth of his remark 
and answered : 

“ And this rascally major-domo, w'here has he taken himself ?” 
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and mount- 
ing to the court, cried out in a voice of thunder, “ Izquierdo ! 
Izquierdo ! Maldito de Dios / * * * 

Izquierdo had hastened to the nearest woodyard, and loading 
several mules by the help of the cook’s gargonsy whom he was 
urging up with the whip, was' just entering the court, when he 
heard that terrible voice. But he redoubled his blows that the 
blame of the delay might fall, at least in part, on his poor mules, 
and God knows they had very little to say about it. He 
approached Paredes, and began to exculpate himself, but he 
was soon shut up. 

“ Quick, then — hurry — less of your jabber — down with that 
wood, or I’ll measure some of it over your head.” 

To reach the kitchen of the cortile, three steps were first to 
be mounted, and then a dark passage conducted to a small 
yard, in the centre of which there was an empty square, sur- 
rounded by a W£dl. Descending to the bottom, the kitchen was 
entered by a winding staircase, and here stood Garcia stamping 
his feet with impatience to watch the slow and difficult process 
of carrying down the wood. Seeing things were making, in 
his opinion, little progress, he was seized with fury, and 
throwing his shoulder under one of the mules, he raised him 
from the ground, wood and all, and carried him with his legs 
dangling down before and behind him like a kid, and pitched 
him to the bottom on top of the wood, with his legs kicking 
in the air ; and with the same fury he played the same trick 
with the second and third, and at the bottom of the place, 
which was none of the largest, could be seen a mountain of 
wood, snouts, ears, and legs of asses, mangled and bruised. 
The gardens, frightened out of tlieir wits, sprang to their relief, 


172 


THE CHA.LLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


and began to pick up the wood and pitch it into the kitchen. 
The dread of Diego Garcia now reached even the cook himself, 
who came to their relief, but he occasionally turned up his eyes 
to see if the shower of asses was likely to.be renewed, that he 
might have time to make his escape. The fire-places were now 
soon filled, and the impulse given so strangely by Paredes, was 
so powerful, every man did the duty of three. Seeing every- 
thing was going on well, he brushed off the dust from his 
shoulders, and having nothing now left to scold about, he 
started for his house to change his dress. He found the court- 
yard crowded with the gay company just returned from the 
tournament. Gonzales, the Duke of Nemours, the ladies, and 
barons, had arrived just in time to see Diego Garcia backing 
off the last mule, and hearing the secret of the strange manoBU- 
vre. A general laugh followed as they opened a passage for the 
Spanish knight, and mounted to the reception rooms to wait 
the dining hour. 

In the large audience hall of Gonzales which extended in a 
circuit of more than a hundred paces, adjoining his private 
apartments, an immense table, in the form of a horse-shoe, had 
been prepared, which extended around the room with accom- 
modations for about three hundred guests. On the side 
farthest from the door, at the head of the table, were placed 
four large chairs covered with velvet, and fringed with gold, for 
the Duke of Nemours, Gonzales, Donna Elvira, and Vittoria 
Coloiina, Over their heads were suspended from the wall, the 
banners of Spain, the ensigns of the house of Coloima, and the 
standards of the army, mingled with the trophies, made up of 
the richest and most dazzling armor, with helmets and plumes 
of every color, studded with a treasure of jewels. From a 
number of spaces left between the tables, which were long 
enough to admit of it, came up at equal distances, trees of 
orange, myrtle, and young palms, all filled with fruits ; and 
flowers and pure cold water, conducted by delicate tubes, were 
gusliing up among the leaves, and falling in vases of silver, 
where fish of a hundred colors were sporting. Around the 
branches of the trees little birds were fluttering, which, without 
its being perceived, were tied with horse-hairs, and havmg 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


173 


been domesticnted in cages, they sung merrily without being 
in the least intimidated by the sight or the gaiety of the 
banquet. An immense side-board stood near the head of the 
table, where the illustrious guests were seated, loaded with 
large vases and plates of silver, calved in arabesque figures in 
relievo , and directly before it sat the master of the table, on a 
high stool, directing by means of his ebony cane, the domestics 
who served the banquet. 

In the centre of the open space, between the tables, were 
standing on the pavement, two huge urns of bronze, full of 
water ; on which were painted suppers, by Paul Veronese, 
and in them were cooling flagons and pitchers of Spanish and 
Sicilian wine. On the two opposite sides of the room, at the 
height of ten cubits from the floor, were arranged the musi- 
cians. Thanks to the supervision of Diego Garcia, and the 
diligence of the cook, a little after mid-day the master of cere- 
monies was enabled to enter the hall, where the company was 
waiting, followed by fifty servants, dressed in yellow and red, 
with towels, basins, and vases, for washing the hands, and to 
announce that dinner was waiting. The Duke de Nemours, 
flushed with youth, health, and all the grace which adorns the 
French nation, offered his hand to Donna Elvira to conduct 
her to her place. Who could, at that moment, have told that 
youthful prince, who seemed destined for a fortunate and a 
glorious future, that in a few days, his eyes now flashing with 
vivacity, his limbs warm with the blood of youth, would be 
cold and still, stretched in a mean coffin in the little church 
Della Cerignola ; and that a brief service, uttered by Gonzalo, 
would be the last act of jifTection he would have from a human 
heart, (i) * * * * 

Gonzales seated himself between Vittoria Colonna and the 
Duke, with his daughter on the Prince’s right hand, next to 
Ettore Fieramosca, and opened the banquet. The gallantry 
displayed towards Donna Elvira by the Italian knight, during 
the day, had been so captivating, that her fervid heart could 
not resist the fascination — especially when she heard his name 
sounded by every one with praise and affection. Seated 

(1) The Duke de Nemours was slain in the battle Della Cerignola. 


174 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


together at the table, they once more resumed their conversa ’ 
tion with all their former earnestness ; but a cloud came gra- 
dually over the brow of the Italian; his answers were less 
ready, and at last he seemed to become almost heedless of the 
conversation. Donna Elvira watched him furtively, with a 
slight feeling of suspicion and pique, and seeing him grow 
pale, with his eyes fixed on the floor, absorbed in some strange 
thought, she was almost inclined to believe she was herself the 
cause of the change. Such a fancy made her indulgent, and 
she also suspended conversation, and both of them remained 
for some time perfectly silent in the midst of the mirth and 
revelty of the banquet 

But poor Elvira flattered herself too much : the cause of the 
agitation of Ettore Fieramosca came from a very different 
quarter, — it sprang from a fortuitous combination. Opposite 
the place where he sat, the large windows of the hall, divided 
by two Gothic columns, had been left open on account of the 
heat, and there was an unobstructed view of the whole shore 
of the sea, with Gargano reposing in that beautiful cerulean 
which bathes those mountains at mid-day, when the air is 
serene and limpid. In the midst of the scene, the islet and the 
convent of St. Ursula rose up from the sea, and so clear was 
the view, that on the red front of the stranger’s house he saw 
distinctly the balcony of Ginevra under the shade of the vine 
leaves. On the pure coloring of this picture rose the dark 
figure of Grajano, who was seated directly between him and 
the balcony. 

The contrast of the sky seemed to kindle on his burning and 
fiery face a still deeper red, and gave to his countenance a still 
more vulgar and disgusting expression. When he thought 
who the man was that sat before him, Fieramosca felt as 
though he would die of suffocation. Happily for him he knew 
not the agony poor Ginevra was at that very moment suffer- 
ing — for at that very moment she had just heard from Gennaro 
that Grajano was in Barletta, and had descended to the sub- 
terranean chapel to swear to abandon those scenes for ever. 

In the gaiety of the crowded banquet little observation was 
attracted by Ettore and Elvira. But Vittoria Colonna, who 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


175 


was already filled with suspicion, had been narrowly watch- 
ing their movements, and fancymg some more ultimate com- 
munications had passed between them, she secretly scanned 
every motion of the young knight and his companion, for she 
could not but tremble for her safety. In the mean time, the 
dinner was being served, with all that profusion and variety 
which the usage of those times required. If the cooking art 
is difficult in our times, it was, perhaps, doubly so then — for a 
cook at that period was obliged, on such an occasion as this, 
to serve up scores of dishes, of which we moderns have not 
even an idea. Every dish was expected not only to please the 
palate, but delight the eye of the gourmand. 

Before Gonzales was an injmense peacock, which still retain- 
ed all its plumes and feathers in so perfect a state, and the 
difficulty of cooking it without injuring its plumage had been 
so fortunately overcome, it seemed to be still alive. It was sur- 
rounded, on the same dish, by a large number of smaller birds, 
prepared in the same manner, all filled with spices and per- 
fumes. At equal distances rose up enormous pasties, two 
arms in height ; and, at the appointed time, at a sign from the 
master of ceremonies, the covers rose, without being touched, 
and from each one came up a dwarf, fantastically dressed, 
who distributed the dish, with silver spoons, among the guests. 
Some of the dessert and fruit dishes were constructed in the 
form of little mountains, on which were growing plants, load- 
ed with candied fruits — others in the form of little lakes of 
distilled water, in which decorated cakes of sugar, laden with 
confectionery, were lightly floating, and others, still, repre- 
sented Alpine mountains, with volcanic peaks, sending forth 
clouds of the most delicious perfumes. When opened, they 
were found to contain chestnuts and other fruits, cooked slowly 
by flames of spirits of wine. Among the profusion of game 
was a small wild boar, with his skin still apparently untouch- 
ed, assaulted by the spears of the hunters (of pastry)— but on 
cutting it open, it was found to be perfectly cooked, and even 
the hunters themselves were served up with their victims. 
Towards the close of tlie banquet, four pages, dressed in crim- 
son and gold plaid, came riding into the hall on four white 


'176 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


horses, bearing^ an enormous dish, on which lay athnnnythrce 
arms in length, which they deposited before Gonzales, while 
the whole crowd were filled with admiration at the immense 
size of the fish, and its superb ornaments ; on its back was the 
figure of a naked youth, with his lyre, which represented 
Avion, of Metimna. Gonzales turned to the Duke de Nemours, 
and presenting him a knife, requested him to open the fish’s 
mouth. 

The Duke complied with his request, and a flock of doves 
came out from their prison and flew gaily round the hall. This 
last device was received at first with astonishment and delight^ 
by all the guests. The doves alighted in different parts of the 
hall, and there were seen suspended from each one’s neck 
jewels and ribbons, on which were inscribed names. The 
banquet now became aware the Spanish Captain had chosen 
this delicate manner of presenting gifts to his guests, and a 
beautiful scene of excitement and confusion followed, when 
the doves were taken and carried one after another to the for- 
tunate ones for whom they were destined. 

Even Fanfulla thought to try his hand with the rest. He 
caught a glance of the inscription of one of the doves flying 
over his head, and seeing it bore the name of Donna Elvira, 
whose beauty had completely fascinated him, he determined to 
be the one to present to her the gift. He gave chase to the 
bird, and being more spry than the rest he soon entrapped it, and 
making his way through the crowd he dropped on one knee 
before her and presented her the dove, which bore on its neck 
a clasp of the largest and most brilliant diamonds. 

Donna Elvira received the dove with the most gracious 
recognition, and holding it to her cheeks to caress it, the 
frightened bird struggled and flapped its wings, dishevelling 
the blond locks on the brow of the maiden which tinged with 
a delicate carnation. While she was endeavoring to detach 
the jewels from the dove’s neck, Fanfulla said as he rose, “ I 
do not believe there are more beautiful diamonds than these 
in the world, but, lady, it would not be treating them fairly to 
compare them with your eyes !” 

A smile of complacency recompensed the courteous words 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


177 


of Fanfulla. Some of my readers, familiar with the delicacy 
with which modern civilisation has invested all social rela- 
tions, may be inclined perhaps to esteem this compliment 
too gross, but we pray them to remember that for a soldier 
of the fifteenth century, with as mad a ^rain as this young 
knight from Lodi, it ought to be considered delicate even to 
excess, and he was better absolved by Donna Elvira than all 
my words could absolve him, for the daughter of Gonzales 
esteemed it a compliment worthy of a cavalier. 

But Fanfulla could not behold her without envy and' a 
tinge of ill-will as she turned to Fieramosca, after examining 
and praising the jewel, and presented him a gold pin with a 
i-equest that he would fasten it to her breast. Vittoria Colonna 
who stood near by, advanced gravely to perform this office 
herself. Ettore, conscious of the inconsiderateness of Elvira’s 
request, was going to deliver up the clasp, but Elvira, capri- 
cious and self-willed, like all children who are brought up by 
too indulgent parents, stepped between them, and with a smile 
she put on to conceal her chagrin, exclaimed to Fieramosca ; 

“ What ! are you so used to managing the sword, that you 
scorn to hold a pin in your hand for a single moment ?” The 
Italian could not but obey, and Vittoria Colonna turned away, 
with an expression on her beautiful but haughty countenance, 
which showed but too plainly how she would have scorned 
to stoop to such coquetry. 

Fanfulla stood still a moment, gazing at Fieramosca. — 
“ Lucky fellow thou art,” said he ; “ others sow, but thou reap- 
est,” and off he went, whistling, as though he had been alone 
in the street, and not in the midst of a banquet. 

But the gifts of Gonzales were not destined for tlie ladies 
alone — he had not forgotten his French guests, and many a 
rich ring, and work of gold to adorn the head dress, Avith a 
profusion of other presents, fell to the lot of the Duke of 
Nemours and his barons. Nor was the sumptuous display of 
the Spanish Captain, at this banquet, without an object~he 
wished to show the French that he was not only abundantly 
supplied with every provision for his soldiers, but the means of 
offering magnificent entertainments for his guests. 

8* 


178 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


The doves were at last all taken, and each one resumed his 
place, to receive the toasts which were now to be drank. The 
Duke de Nemours, following the custom of France, rose to 
his feet, and taking a goblet, turned to Donna Elvira, and 
prayed her ever to consider him her cavalier, saving his alle- 
giance to the Most Christian King. The maiden accepted his 
gallant homage in a courteous reply ; a long succession of 
toasts followed. At last Gonzales rose, and, followed by his 
guests, walked out on a balcony that commanded a view of 
the sea, where the hours still left to complete the day were 
passed in conversation. Donna Elvira and Fieramosca passed 
most of these hours together: the Spanish maiden seemed 
unable to tear herself from his company, and when he turned 
to mingle with the guests, or seek some corner alone, she was 
soon again by his side. Too sensitive not to be conscious of 
this preference, Ettore was too full of honor to desire to inflame 
it, for he knew it could not be happily consummated. But 
his gallant nature, and the commands of Gonzales, could not 
allow him to be guilty of any violation of courtesy. Not a 
few eyed them closely, and became merry at their expense. 
Fanfulla, who was far from having forgotten the affair of the 
dove, was chagrined to see his companion basking in her 
smiles, and the first opportunity he had of saying to him a 
word, he whispered in his ear, with half a smile and half a 
frown, “ But thou wilt pay me for this some day.” 


/ 


CHAPTER XV. 


In the grand hall of the ground-floor, which, in an ancieui 
castles, formed the rendezvous of the men-at-arms, a theatre 
had been erected similar in form to those of our times, saving 
that the curtain, instead of rising, used to fall in the place now 
appropriated to the orchestra. From a neighboring city on the 
sea coast, a company of travelling comedians, who had passed 
the Carnival in Venice, and wandered from city to city, repre- 
senting dramas and comedies, on their way to Naples, for the 
festivals of St. Gennaro, or to Palermo, for S. Rosalia, had now 
been called to Barletta to hold themselves in readiness for this 
gala-day of Gonzales. 

Being summoned before so select an audience, they had 
made special preparations to give a grand performance. It was 
hardly dark before the spectators were all in their boxes, and 
the order was given to commence. An immense piece of linen- 
cloth which served for a curtain, was lowered, and a stage 
appeared, on one side of which was seen a gorgeous portico 
of statues and columns. It was the entrance of a Royal 
Palace, and over the door was an inscription in letters of gold 
— Land of Babilonia.” 

Under the portico, seated on a throne, and surrounded by his 
court, was a King with a sceptre of gold in his hand, dressed 
in gorgeous oriental robes, with a magnificent turban covered 
with gems, and surmounted by a crown. In the midst of the 
stage could be seen the shore of the sea, with a lofty mountain 
stretching away on the side, covered with trees and rocks, in 
the midst of which, from a deep cavern, came out an immease 
dragon, casthig occasional glances upon the golden fleece of a 
ram suspended from a neighboring tree. 


180 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Near the King was seated, on a lower throne, a majestic, 
graceful, and beautiful woman robed in crimson satin, with a 
train two yards in length, and a cap of black velvet in the 
French fashion. She had a falchion at her side instead of a 
scimitar, and a book and a wand in her hand — it was Medea. 
Ill a few moments a vessel came to the shore, from which a 
number of young men in the dress of soldiers landed. One of 
them was of great beauty, all covered with mail except the 
head ; and two young Moors carried his helmet and shield — 
it was Jason. Advancing forward, he bowed a reverence to 
the King, and began an address in lines of eight feet, which 
grated not unlikely with some harshness on the ears of Vittoria 
Colonna, as perhaps they would on the ears of our readers. 
They began thus : — 

Di Christianita venemmo, 

Argonaut! se cliiameno, 

Al Soldan de Babellona, 

Che Dio salvi sua corona. 

From Christendom we came, 

Argonauts is our name, 

And may God save the crown 
Of the Sultan of Babylon. 

Continuing in this measure, he said they had come to carry 
off with them the Fleece of Gold. After consulting with his 
court and his daughter, OEta replied, manifesting his satisfac- 
tion, and left Jason, the speaker, alone with his daughter. 

He immediately began to make love to the lady ; and pray- 
ing for her help, promised to conduct her to Christendom, 
where he would wed her, and make her a queen. Medea lent 
a willing ear to his flatteries, and taught him certain spells to 
charm the dragon, charging him, above all things, if he wished 
to practice them with success, that he should say nothing 
about saints, or make the sign of the cross, which would soon 
destroy their power. When she left him, Jason turned to his 
companions, and declared it would be unworthy of a brave 
cavalier to resort to incantations to overcome the dragon, and 
he was determined to conquer him by arms. He drew his 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


181 


sword, and covering himself with the shield one of his attend- 
ants presented to him, while the other buckled on his helmet, 
he assaulted the dragon. But the monster rushed forth from 
the cavern, vomiting fire, and made so brave a defence, that, 
after a short battle, Jason was compelled to renounce the un- 
dertaking. His companions then exhorted him, with earnest 
entreaties, to resort to the incantations ; and yielding to their 
prayers, he succeeded in charming the dragon and stealing the 
golden fleece. 

Medea now returned, and besought them to carry her away 
with them ; and suddenly the sound of trumpets, and cymbals, 
and flutes, and other Moorish instruments, was heard ap- 
proaching. Shortly after, a youth, mounted on a horse, came 
out, in a Saracen dress, to challenge Jason, who accepted the 
battle, and with a few blows brought him to the ground. 
While he was embarking with his company in the ship, (Eta 
came up with his court : seeing his daughter flying, and his 
son Absirto lying dead on the ground, he commanded his 
attendants to oppose the departure of the Argonauts. Medea 
then began her incantations — the air grew dark — a host of men, 
strangely dressed, looking like demons, appeared, running 
about with torches, and finished by setting fire to Babylon, and 
carrying off with them the king and all his court. The Argo- 
nauts, in the meantime, were allowed, without opposition, to 
sail off on their voyage. Thus ended the drama. 

Those of our readers who vaunt themselves so much on the 
exquisiteness of our modern theatres, should consider that the 
talent which, in certain plays of the present day, draws down 
thunders of applause, and which consists in so arranging mat- 
ters that the play always ends with some conflagration or ruin, 
with Olympus or Tartarus, is no new discovery of our century, 
but served the scenes, and was appreciated by “ the public,” 
of 1500. 

The company for whose benefit this spectacle had been pre- 
pared, although composed in part of persons not destitute of 
culture, remained pleased, or, at least, appeared so ; and in 
tnith, for comedians of their class, and for the place where 
they played, they even did better than could have been ex- 


182 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


pected. But another portion of the guests of the banquet, 
whose inferior condition precluded them from mingling with 
noble cavaliers, were enjoying, in the meantime, another simi- 
lar spectacle, prepared for them in the courtyard ; and their 
shouts and acclamations certainly gave evidence of a warmer 
approbation. 

Several Sf)anish soldiers had demanded, and obtained, per- 
mission to recite one of the national comedies. In an angle of 
the court, a place had been prepared with tables and a curtain 
in the form of a theatre : and for several days previous, the 
actors had gone for rehearsal, that each one might learn per- 
fectly his part. They had chosen a comedy, widely popular in 
Spain, entitled “ias Mocedades del Cid ” — which literally signi- 
fies, the childhood of Cid; or, more properly speaking, his 
youth — and after this, if the time would allow, they were to 
recite a saynetes, ox petite piece, as the French say. 

Just as the dramatic action we have described began in the 
castle, this second theatre was also thrown open to a crowded 
audience, composed of capi-squadra, officers, soldiers, citizens 
by scores, shop-keepers, and a host of the common people. 
The aristocracy of this assemblage were very comfortably 
seated near the stage, and spreading off on all sides from this 
centre, the quality of the spectators deteriorated, till, on the 
outer extremities, there were seen none but loafers and sweeps. 
The entrance of the castle was open to all ; and, consequently, 
the crowd was enormous : and if, on account of their different 
positions, all could not equally enjoy the play, those who were 
most distant comforted themselves by groans, hisses, and 
whistlings, all of which were received by those near the stage 
with evident marks of disapprobation, and the launch of an 
occasional Zitto (silence), first from one side and then from the 
other, which, so far from restraining the noise, made the dis- 
turbance still more boisterous. 

In the midst of this rabble, intent on their own amusement, 
there was one man wandering about, who, notwithstanding 
his squalid and abject appearance, had the countenance and 
bearing of one who could not be confounded with the mass 
around him, and who showed by his restless and anxious ap- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


183 


pearance, that he had come to the place from a very different 
motive than amusement. This man was Pietraccio, and he 
had got thus far, without obstacle, on his way to assassinate 
Ca3sar Borgia, and give warning to Fieramosca of the peril of 
Ginevra. Finding himself thrown into the midst of such a 
scene of confusion, he was not a little embarrassed ; for he 
was aware he had almost insuperable difficulties to overcome, 
before he could find the persons he sought. The reader may, 
perhaps, feel some surprise that an assassin, who had a price 
fixed upon his head, should dare to enter the city, and run the 
hazard of being taken ; and without doubt, in our times, when 
society is subject to a different organization, it would have 
been an act of fool-hardy rashness. But the men of that age 
had not, like us, laws and officers of police, vigilant only to 
guard the public tranquillity ; and as the horror excited by the 
assassination of the Podest^ had somewhat died away, 
Pietraccio could, particularly in the night, visit Barletta with 
as much safety as he ranged his wild thickets on the moun- 
tains. But however hazardous may have been the movement, 
he had too many times extricated himself from danger, and 
was too charged with an infernal thirst for revenge, not to find 
a way to conquer every obstacle. Let us leave him to the 
execution of his purpose, while we return once more to the 
principal actors in our history. 

It was nearly two hours after dark when the amusements of 
the theatre were brought to a close, and the court of Gonzales 
returned again to the banquet hall. It had been entirely trans- 
formed and decorated for the ball, brilliantly illuminated by an 
infinite number of candelabras hung on every side, with a 
magnificent chandelier glittering in the centre. The orchestra 
still occupied the same tier of boxes as at dinner, raised nearly 
two-thirds of the distance from the pavement to the cornice, 
and the saloon had been cleared of all persons of no particular 
account, with the exception of the musicians, they bemg con- 
sidered spectators of a scene in which they could not mingle. 

Gonzales with his noble guests seated himself on a lounge, 
beneath the banners suspended from the wall, and when the 
hall was filled the Duke de Nemours led off Donna Elvira in the 


184 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


dance. When they had left the floor, and the maiden was 
again seated, Fieramosca, who did not, even on this occasion, 
wish to forget his wonted courtesy, came forward and offered 
her his hand, craving a pardon beforehand for his boldness. 
She recognized his offer with marked gladness — they were 
joined by a succession of other couples, and among the rest 
Fanfulla, who not being able to win the hand of Donna Elvira, 
made a choice of the most beautiful he could find among the 
Barletta ladies present, and managed matters so that he should 
in the contradanza be the vis-d-vis of Ettore and his partner. 
The pains he took in the turnings of the dance to watch every 
movement, and hear every word of Donna Elvira, was none too 
agreeable to that lady. The tremulous glances of the Spanish 
maiden showed him how grateful to her was the society of 
her partner, and the sound of the instruments, the movement, 
the frequent pressure of the hand, and that liberty which the 
dance gives to persons who in other circumstances would 
approach each other with greater caution, all combined to 
inflame the soul of the daughter of Gonzales, with an enthusiasm 
of excitement she could hardly control. Ettore and Fanfulla were 
both equally conscious of it ; it excited the surprise of the one, 
and the indignation of the other, who was continually harass- 
ing Fieramosca with hints and winks. But Ettore, whose 
nature easily revolted from such jests, maintained a stern and 
almost melancholy countenance, which the damsel interpreted 
m her own way ; but unfortunately too far from the truth. 

At last, Donna Elvira, with that heedless imprudence all her 
own, seizing a moment when she held Ettore’s hand, whispered 
in his ear — “ When this dance is over. Pm going to walk on 
the terrace, which overlooks the sea — come with me, I wish to 
speak to you.” 

Thunderstruck with these words which showed him he was 
to be drawn unwillingly into a serious intrigue, Fieramosca 
nodded assent with a slight change of countenance without 
giving any other reply. But either Donna Elvira had not used 
sufficient precaution in lowering her voice, or Fanfulla’s ears 
were too wide open, for the fact was he had heard those ill- 
timed words, and cursing in his inmost heart the good fortune 


IHE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


185 


of Fieramosca, he muttered through his teeth, “ Is there no 
way of making this little fairy pay dear for these words 

Ettore was distracted at the same time by a thousand ha- 
rassing thoughts, but the idea never crossed his mind for a 
moment of taking advantage of the flattering words of the 
Spanish maiden. For flrst of all the image of Ginevra was 
too deeply enshrined in his heart, and even without this motive 
he had too much sense to attempt an intrigue with the 
daughter of Gonzales ; and she herself, with all the coquettry 
of her nature, could never have made a conquest of Ettore’s 
heart, for he was far from being one of that class of men who 
are on the alert for every opportunity that offers. Neither 
could he without pain have been esteemed discourteous, Al- 
lured, or perhaps worse, for among the contradictions o-f 
human nature there happens to be that of calling a man a fool 
and a simpleton for not doing the very things which are 
esteemed base and contemptible. During the rest of the dance 
he tried to imagine some way to escape, as the saying goes, 
both the fox and the geese, and after shifting his project a score 
of times he at last resolved, seeing the moment was approach- 
ing, resolutely to incur any risk before being guilty of a 
wrong to Ginevra. He could not but remember that while 
he was mingling in the festivities of this gay assembly, she 
was shut up in a miserable cloister in the midst of the sea, 
abandoned by all the world, and thinking, not unlikely, ot 
him too, and he condemned himself for having even for a 
single moment admitted anything on earth but her image to 
absorb his soul. He had therefore hardly finished dancing 
with Elvira when he determined to leave the place, and 
offering as an excuse one of those bad sensations in the 
head, which served in 'the sixteenth, as they now serve in the 
nineteenth, century in so many occasions, he left the hall and 
went to his own house. 

The young men who had taken part in this contradanza, 
in order to relieve themselves from all encumbrance, and 
such moreover was the custom, had left the mantles they wore 
on the left shoulder in an adjoining chamber, remaining in 
their doublets and breeches, for the most part of white satin 


186 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Fanfulla and Ettore were dressed in this color, and were so 
nearly alike in stature and under-dress that they would have 
been distinguished only by their mantles. Fieramosca’s was 
of blue, embroidered in silver, Fanfulla’s was of Vermillion. 

Ettore found Diego Garcia, and asked him to render as his 
apology to Gonzales and his daughter that a violent head-ache 
obliged him to leave, and he went immediately to the room 
where he had left his mantle. Just as he was passing the 
threshold at a moment the crowd was divided, which left no 
one near him, he felt a light tap on his shoulder like the fall of 
something from above, and looking at his feet where it had 
fallen, he saw a note which contained something heavy. He 
looked up to the box from which it appeared to have fallen, 
and seeing no one looking at him he stooped, and picking it 
up found there was a small stone folded in the paper only to 
give it weight to direct its course where it was thrown. The 
following sentence was coarsely and almost illegibly written : 
“ Madonna Ginevra is going to be stolen away from St. Ursula 
at the command of the Duke of Valentino, three hours after 
night-fall. He who sends you this warning waits for you with 
three companions at the great gate of the castle, and will bear 
a Moorish lance in his hand.” 

A cold chill struck to the very marrow of Fieramosca’s 
bones, and it was doubled when he recollected that two hours 
and a half had already some time before sounded from the 
clock on the tower. There was not a moment to lose. Pale 
as a man who had received his death wound, and is taking his 
last step's ready to fall for ever, he darted through the door like 
a flash and rushed precipitately down the great stair- way* 
without mantle or cap, alarming all he passed, and running 
with all his speed he reached the spot marked out under such 
terrible excitement, he was forced to support himself from 
falling by seizing hold of the large iron ring hung to the gate. 
The arch of the entrance was pitch dark. Almost suffocated 
with running and with agony, he braced himself up against the 
wall till the man with the lance came up. 

Fieramosca’s departure from the ball, so furious and so 
changed in his aspect, excited general observation, but when 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


187 


the secret was explained by Garciai the crowd thought not of 
following him. But the fears of Inigo and Brancaleone, who 
loved him better than any, were not to be so easily dispelled. 
They followed immediately, and although they could not 
catch up with him, they still kept their eye on him and reached 
the gate soon after himself. 

When they found Fieramosca he was dragging Pietraccio 
away with him, saying : “ Let ns go then quick, quick ! ” 
Seeing his companions he exclaimed with great agitation, “ If 
yon are my friends come to my aid against the traitor Valen- 
tino. We’ll take a boat, we are seven men, and we’ll soon be 
at St. Ursula.” Brancaleone cast an eye from himself to his 
companions and replied, “ And where are our arms ?” In facU 
not one of them had brought down a sword. Fieramosca 
went almost raving, he stamped his feet on the ground, tore 
his hair from his head, and seemed ready to lose his senses. 
But Brancaleone, who in a crisis never lacked words or expe- 
dients, continued : 

“ Go, Ettore, to the sea with your men, get a boat ready with 
the oars, and wait for us. Inigo, you come with me,” and the 
two vanished, while Fieramosca cried out after them, “ Make 
haste, make haste, it only lacks a few moments of the time 
and although his friends neither understood the force of these 
words, nor the motive for such haste, they knew no time 
should be lost, and entering the house of the Colonni, they 
rushed to the hall on the ground floor where the armor was 
kept, and seizing several breast-plates, visors, and swords, 
they rushed back again with the same speed to their compa- 
nions, Avhom they found already in the boat. They flung in 
their armor and jumped in themselves, leaving Inigo, who was 
the last, to shove off. They took their seats, and seizing up 
their oars they made them bend under their hurried desperate 
strokes. 

In directing their course towards the convent they were 
obliged to pass under the clock-tower of the castle. As they 
swept by they could distinctly hear the rumbling which the 
machinery makes a few seconds before striking the hour. Poor 
Ettore’s head and shoulders fell instantly to his breast as though 


188 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


he felt the tower itself were tumbling down upon his head. 
Ill a few seconds the fatal hour struck, and prolonged its 
sounds over the sea, till they reached the shore and sent back 
their fatal echo. 

But before we see the end of this desperate movement, we 
must return for a short interval to the ball-room. Fanfulla, to 
whom chance, or his own subtlety, had discovered the secret of 
Donna Elvira, had determined within himself to reap some 
advantage from it, but he was at a loss how to execute his 
purpose. But when he saw his preferred rival rush from the 
room without cap or mantle, a wild fancy sprang up in his 
brain, and being a man who never hesitated a moment when 
a mad caprice was to be indulged, he hurried on still more 
recklessly to its gratification. 

He had kept his eye fixed on the daughter of Gonzales, and 
seeing her, when the dance was finished, cross over to go into 
the balcony, he knew she was not aware of his departure. 
He went hastily to the apartment where the mantles were left. 
He found that all had been taken but his own and Fieramosca’s, 
with his cap of black velvet ornamented with several bending 
plumes. He put it on his head in such a manner, that the 
plumes partially concealed his face; over his shoulders he 
flung the blue mantle, and without gazing him full in the face, 
every one would have taken him for Fieramosca. 

Thus disguised, he made his way through the crowd slily 
to the balcony, where there were no lights, and the darkness 
was hardly dissipated by the reflection of those that shone so 
brilliantly within. A number of boxes of lemon trees placed 
around a fountain which sent up fresh water, so completely 
shaded the spot, it was easy to prevent one’s self from being 
seen by those who came out of the hall. When he stepped 
upon the balcony, there happened to be no one in sight. He 
advanced cautiously, and saw Donna Elvira seated near the 
parapet, over the sea, with an elbow resting on the iron rail- 
ing, supporting her head with her hand, gazing steadily up 
into the sky. 

The moon was obscured at that moment by some fleecy 
clouds drifting before the wind. Fanfulla knew if he allowed 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


189 


this opportunity to pass, he would almost certainly be recog- 
nized when these clouds had passed, and tripping lightly for- 
ward on his toes he approached Donna Elvira, who was 
unconscious of his approach till he was already by her side. 
As she turned her head, Fanfulla dropped his own with grace 
and address, and reverently falling upon one knee at her feet, 
seized her hand, and pressed it to his lips. He conducted 
matters, in fact, so adroitly, and succeeded so entirely in conceal- 
ing his face, that the daughter of Gonzales had not the faintest 
doubt Fieramosca was at her feet. She feigned to wish to 
withdraw her hand, but according to the usage of all times, it 
was with pardonable force retained. Although her character 
was capricious, light and self-willed, we cannot but suppose 
that on finding herself in so close an intercourse with a young 
knight, she felt stung by a feeling of remorse, and trembled 
with the fear of being surprised by her father, or perhaps still 
worse, by her severe friend. 

A stronger gust of wind swept off from the moon the veil 
which had covered it ; its full beams flooded the spot where 
they were, and the brilliant dresses they wore with limpid 
light. They might have been unconscious of it, perhaps, 
themselves, but a piercing scream of a female voice coming 
up from the terrace, a few feet above the sea, startled them 
both, and knowing it must have been heard by other persons, 
who might come out on the balcony, they hastily returned by 
different passages to the hall ; where the few who had heard 
the scream had as soon forgotten it, amidst the general festi- 
vity. The first cry had, however, been succeeded by a second, 
more feeble, which expired on the lips of the person who 
uttered it, and no other sound was heard but the dead fall of 
a human body into the bottom of a boat. But the balcony was 
deserted. The halls of the castle were gay with festivity, and 
no one troubled himself to know who the wretched being was 
who called for help. 

While these circumstances were transpiring in the castle, 
the little skiff, which bore Fieramosca and his companions, 
pulled by seven strong men, flew over the waters towards the 
convent, leaving a long white streak of foam in its wake. 


190 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Braiicaleone — perceiving that Fieramosca thought only of 
trying the last strength of his arms, as he bent over his oar — 
exclaimed in a resolute tone, *‘ Come, rouse thee, Ettore ; I 
know not where thou art taking us, but this is certainly no 
child’s play; at any rate, if anything is to be done, we shall 
be poor helpers while these coats of mail lie in the bottom of 
the boat.” 

The whole company saw the force of these words, and 
began to arm themselves rapidly, prudently following each 
other, that only one might abandon his oar at the same time. 
Once buckled on their swords, and their heads covered with 
light steel helmets, they bent over their oars with still more 
desperate strokes, sharply watching the sea in all directions, 
to catch a glimpse of their adversaries. 

In the meantime, while Ettore was telling them in broken 
words, why he had asked their succor, he saw a boat at a 
short distance, and they pulled towards it ; but they found, as 
they approached, it was rowed only by a single person, who 
was slowly moving on towards Barletta. 

But no time was to be lost, and they again turned on their 
course to the convent, without having been . able clearly to 
discern the figure of this single oarsman. Inigo advised the 
rest to overhaul the boat, with the hope of getting some uifor- 
mation, but Ettore would not consent. The appointed hour 
was already passed, and they could hardly hope, as it was, to 
reach their destination in time. And yet, had he followed the 
counsel of Inigo, how many curses he would have escaped ! 

The convent of St. Ursula grew gradually more and more 
distinct. Ettore kept his eyes fixed intently on its oiitlme, but 
he could discover no light at any of the windows. At a dis- 
tance of two shots of an arquebus, on the left, a long, low, 
bark shot fortli like a swallow over the sea. In a single breath, 
Ettore, Inigo, and Braiicaleone, exclaimed in a suppressed 
voice, “ There they are and turning the prow in that direc- 
tion, redoubled their strokes. The other skiff, perceiving their 
design, put all speed to escape them: but the desperation of 
the pursuers seemed now to be increased three-fold — the space 
between the two boats was diminishmg — already they could 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


191 


hear what each other said ; and Fieramosca, rising as far as he 
could, without dropping his oar, saw a woman stretched on 
the poop, held down by two men. 

“ Traitors,” he cried out, with a voice which sent back an 
echo from the walls of the convent. 

“ On, on ; pull, pull away,” they all cried out together, as 
they shut their teeth and heaved their desperate strokes, that 
brought iheir bow almost up to the stern of their enemies. 

Swift as lightning, Ettore flung down his oar, and leaped, 
sword in hand into the midst of his foes, who had armed 
themselves to the teeth. 

The push he gave his own boat, as he shrang forward, sent 
It astern, and he stood alone in the midst of his enemies, where 
blows fell upon his breast and head, that cleft his helmet and 
corselet. But his companions saw his danger, and in a mo- 
ment were at his side. Pietraccio was the second to leap for- 
ward ; but he had hardly reached the spot where he believed 
he should find Valentino, when the stroke of an oar fell on his 
head, and laid him senseless in the bottom of the boat. Side 
by side stood Ettore, Inigo, and Brancaleone, fighting despe- 
rately, blade to blade, and well they knew how to use them ; 
but they could neither overcome their enemies, nor be over- 
come by them, for they kept them hemmed in the stem of the 
boat. Each struck and parried well-dealt blows with incre- 
dible swiftness ; and in the confusion the boat whirled and 
dipped, every moment in danger of being overturned. 

Pietraccio’s companions had not been able to come forward 
to the struggle — for the boat was so narrow more than three 
men could not fight abreast — ^but they were not useless. They 
seized the female from the poop, and carried her, by main 
force, to their own boat. When the three combatants saw the 
conquest had been made, they followed Brancaleone’s advice, 
given in a suppressed voice, and retreating backwards, and 
leaping by a single spring into their own boat, they allowed 
their enemies to draw off. Ettore would not have so easily 
given over the struggle, had he seen Csesar Borgia among his 
foes ; but he was not there. He had only exposed the lives of 
the villains in his service, and Ettore cared not to imbrue his 


192 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


hands in the ruffians’ blood. Besides, Ginevra was rescued — 
so thought he — and he felt it would be better to think only of 
her safety. But Don Michele burned with rage to see himself 
robbed of all the fruit of his intrigues, and cursed himself for 
not having, in the begiiming of the struggle, thought of secur- 
ing the female. The thing, however, was done, and he knew 
too well the folly of attempting to recover her from the hands 
of the desperate men who had carried her off. But this bold 
assassin of Csesar Borgia had not suffered defeat, without some 
vengeance. While the three knights were drawing back to 
leap into their own boat, he pressed forward, grasping his 
sword in his right hand and his dagger in the left, and gave 
several thrusts at Fieramosca, who was nearer to him than the 
rest, and he succeeded, as he sprang into his skiff, in wounding 
him lightly in the neck : but m the heat of the moment Ettore 
was unconscious of the wound. 

Thus separated, one party turned towards Barletta, and the 
other rowed back towards the convent. The female was en- 
veloped in a sheet. Still anxious for the result, Fieramosca 
seated her as well as he could, and removed the cloth that 
covered her. Instead of Ginevra, he found Zoraide, who had 
fainted away. At any other moment he would have blessed 
God for her liberation ; but now he felt that nothing was done, 
when he had thought everything consummated. 

What had become of Ginevra ? And how came Zoraide H 
there ? He sighed deeply, beating his brow with his clenched 
hand in the wildest agony, and astonishing his companions, 
who were wholly unconscious of the mistake. They soon 
reached the island, and Ettore dashed up the stairs, and in a 
moment was in the room of Ginevra. He found it open and 
empty, and the island and the convent in profound stillness. 
As he came out of the room to seek elsewhere for something 
that would relieve his anxiety, his companions arrived m the 
gallery, bearing Zoraide, who had recovered her senses, but 
could give no other reply to his hasty interrogations, than that, 
about nine o’clock, she had been waked by the noise of several 
men, who entered her room, rolled her up in a sheet, and carried 
her to a boat She could remember nothing more. Of Ginevra 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


193 


she knew nothing ; she had not seen her since noon the day 
before. Observing she was thoughtful and melancholy, she 
had avoided disturbing her ; and at her usual hour of retiring, 
she had gone to her chamber without seeking for her. 

Ettore listened, standing, to this relation with-his eyes fixed 
on Zoraide, and when she finished, his countenance under- 
went a gradual change, till his cheeks were as pallid as the 
dead. At last he was obliged to sit down, and in trying to 
raise himself up, his knees gave way. One of the company 
had in the meanwhile gone to knock at the door of the cloister, 
and, waking Gennaro, returned with a light. Inigo and Bran- 
caleone were amazed at the frightful change that had come 
over Fieramosca in a few moments, and they attributed it to 
fatigue and anguish of mind, A second time he tried to stand 
up, but his strength had all vanished, and falling down once 
more with his head thrown back over the chair, he said with 
an altered voice, “ Brancaleone ! Inigo ! I never felt in all my 
life as I feel now — time is flying, and what will become of 
Ginevra ? If I could only have my strength for one hour, * ♦ * 
and then be crushed to powder * ♦. I implore you, my dear- 
est companions, wait not a moment, * go, go — * * but 1 can’t 
tell you where, * * but go back to Barletta, * and find her ♦ 
liberate her * find her at all hazards *. Oh, eternal God ! can- 
not I take a step for her !” and he tried, but it was impossible. 
But again he implored his friends still more earnestly to leave 
him, and run to Ginevra’s help, and so wild did his entreaties 
become, that his companions, who knew they had no time to 
waste m taking comisel, promised to return quickly to him 
with some intelligence, and then left his side. They were 
soon in their boat, rowing back with all speed to the city. 

Zoraide, anxious in the meantime for her liberator, endea- 
vored by words and acts of tenderness to administer him 
some relief. She removed his helmet, and unbuckled his coat 
of mail. In wiping off the cold sweat that stood on his brow 
- and neck, she discovered a wound which had been made 
under the collar of his shirt.- 

“ Oh, heavens ! thou art wounded,” she cried, and drying 
quickly the blood which came out and hid the woimd, she saw 
9 


194 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


it more clearly, and recovered from her fears. Perceiving how 
slight it was, she continued, “ Oh ! it is nothing ! it’s only a 
scratch.” But when she examined more carefully by the lamp, 
she saw a red purple around every part of the wound, and 
gazing on Fieramosca’s face, she noticed a livid hue around 
his eyes and lips ; his hands and ears were of the color of 
the box-wood, rigid and cold. Born and nurtured in the east, 
she was familiar with the treatment of wounds of every species, 
and she instantly suspected the dagger had been poisoned. 
She besought Ettore to lie down on the bed, and putting forth 
all her strength, she enabled him to reach it ; she felt of the 
pulse, and found its beat slow and confined. 

But the corporeal anguish Fieramosca suffered, was nothing 
compared with the harrowing reflections that crowded on his 
brain, in multiplied new forms every moment. The wild 
scenes of that evening, and the peril of Ginevra, and thus far 
left him no time to think of anything but her — like the con- 
demned criminal who can sleep his hour, even on the last 
night of his life, and wakes to feel, for the first time, that he 
must die in the same manner. Fieramosca had hardly reco- 
vered from the first stupifying shock, when the recollection of 
the challenge rushed vividly on him, and the oath he had 
sworn, not to expose himself to a wound before the day of 
combat. 

He thought of the shame he should bring upon his country 
if he could not take the field, and the deep pain he would feel 
in not being able to draw the sword with his companions on 
the field, of the scorn the French Avould heap on his name, 
and the soiled honor of Italy ; and these wild images all rushing 
over his brain together, wrung his heart with such torture that 
every muscle in his body quivered with convulsion, and a 
sigh so bitter escaped from his breast, that Zoraide sprang to 
her feet in alarm, begging him to tell the cause— Ettore ex- 
claimed — 

“ I am disgraced for ever ! The challenge, Zoraide, the 
challenge (beating his forehead with his fist), it’s but a few 
days, and I feel so prostrate I could not recover my strength in 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


195 


a month ! Oh ! God, for what deadly sin am I doomed to this 
dreadful misfortune ?” 

The maiden knew not what answer to make to these words, 
but not unlikely she thought less of the battle at that moment 
than the present danger of him who reigned in her heart — a 
danger her experience taught her was becoming every moment 
more critical. This in tant of paroxysm was quickly suc- 
ceeded by a kind of death-like lethargy. He had sunk down 
with his head upon his arm more deadly pale than before — 
the violent beating of the veins betokened convulsions, and 
when Zoraide again looked at the wound, the purple ring 
around it had increased the width of a finger. 

But Ettore could not restrain his anguish. “ Yes, here’s the 
sample of Italian honor ! This is the glowing end of the battle, 
the courage and the vaunting, we’ve been guilty of it. But 
yet, in the face of God himself, where is my crime ? How could 
I have done otherwise ?” 

But these reflections were far from affording him consolation, 
and he thought — 

“ And to whom will I tell the history of all this ? To whom 
shall I give my reasons ? And even when they are all told, will 
not my enemies feign not to believe it, and say : — ‘ Ah ! these 
are the subterfuges of the man who was afraid to meet 
us.’ ” 

While these rending reflections were whirling through his 
brain, the fatal poison, but too well conducted by the dagger of 
Don Michele, was winding, serpent-like, through his veins, and 
creeping up to the head. By degrees his sight became dim, 
and his reason began to waver in the wild beatings of his tem- 
ples, which first made everything around hiiji tremble, then flit 
on his vision with fitful dazzling gleams. Zoraide stood by his 
side, all trembling with alarm; and Ettore held his wild eyes 
full on her face. His brain was turned — under the feeble light 
of the small lamp, which was dying away, he saw the features of 
the maiden change, first into those of La Motte. The phantom 
appeared with the corners of the mouth drawn down into a 
bitter, frightful laugh ; and then its lips grew large and purple, 
and it changed into the form of Grajano d’Asti, which gradually 


196 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


increased as it shot down on him the same demoniac smile, 
till it wore the ghastly face of Valentino. And thus, these 
phantoms flitted by, blending with each other, like a shifting 
phantasmagoria, of the very beings, who, at that dreadful hour, 
were most vividly painted on his fancy. And among the rest, 
flitted by the image of Ginevra, to whom he called by name, 
with burning words of love, “ Leave me to die thus — I who 
love thee so — to leave me in this deep abyss — Oh ! tear away 
from me these infernal visions that stare me in the face and 
many other wild words, at the close of which, all these phan- 
toms came rushing on him together, forming first a lurid group, 
burning and tremulous, like prolonged flashes of lightning, 
which grew fainter and fainter till it died away, and every 
faculty o-f the young sufferer was utterly suspended. 


" .»r 



CHAPTER XVI. 

To conduct, side by side, the relation of the numerous inci- 
dents which befell, on that eventful evenmg, the various actors 
of this story, we have been obliged to leave the reader in sus- 
pense in regard to each one. And although this may be the 
common custom of narrators, yet we believe it cannot be a 
source of pleasure to the reader, if the book he hold in his hand 
is of a nature to inspire any desire to know the end. We shall 
offer no apology to our reader for having adopted this course, 
which the nature of the tale rendered unavoidable ; and such 
an excuse would be an act of vanity that might provoke a 
smile at our expense ; and we are aware that what would be 
modesty in some, is quite a different thing in others. 

But however all this may be, we are obliged to abandon 
even Fieramosca, for a short time, and return to the castle, to 
find Caesar Borgia, whom we left in the small basement-rooms 
that looked out on the sea. 

The first of the two plots which had led him to the camp of 
the Spanish army, had, in spite of his subtlety, vanished in 
smoke ; for he had been unable to inspire sufficient confidence 
in Gonzales to win him over to the League, or even to gain his 
protection. The Spaniard who had kept his faith with him, as 
far as his concealment was concerned, had, nevertheless, 
declined his offers in the best manner he could, treating him 
with that honor which, however little merited by his known 
character, was still due to his rank. During the seven or eight 
days these negotiations and intrigues were in operation, he 
kept himself almost continually s.uit up in his rooms that no 
trace might be gained of him. And when at long intervals he 
went out to take the air, he chose the night time, with a mask 


198 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


over his face, a resort of great men in that century, often made 
use of to cover, with the veil of secrecy, deeds which merited 
little praise. But as we remarked, besides these political 
intrigues, he was laying plots for the ruin of her who had 
been bold enough to show him her contempt ; and these plots 
were, by means of the subtlety of Don Michele, to be brought 
that night to their consummation. 

It may be difficult to some to conceive how this abandoned 
villain, plunged in the deepest of crimes, could value so much 
the possession of a single female, and so untiringly follow 
up her track. And, indeed, it would be a sad mistake to 
suppose that love, even the most sensual, guided the desires of 
Valentino. But Ginevra has repulsed him — and repulsed him 
in a way that showed her horror and her scorn — she still lived, 
as he believed, happy with another — he felt he had been 
frustrated and scorned — and who, in tlie wide universe, could 
boast of having held Csesar Borgia at bay ? 

Of all the beautiful women he had seen, he had left them 
guilty or dishonored, and he had encountered many that were 
pure and virtuous, who were sustained by blood and by pow- 
erful men who could have protected them. And could he now 
endure to see an obscure and almost unprotected female laugh 
to scorn the man who made all Italy, from one extremity 
to another, tremble at his name ? 

But now Valentino was about to be able to satisfy his 
revenge, and he said to himself— “ Thou wilt pay me dear for 
the torture I have endured, cooped up in these walls.” And, 
in truth, his confinement in those narrow rooms, like the 
close walls of a prison, accustomed as he was to the splendid 
life of the Roman Court, might well have seemed hard to him 
if he had been a man to weigh any privation, however severe, 
to gain his end. But he had not been wanting in devices for 
killing the time. Besides the hours he had to pass with 
Gonzales, and those consumed with Don Michele in perfecting 
his infernal plot against Ginevra, there were daily sent to him 
from Romagna, by means of his most confidential agents, 
letters and advices upon passing events, messengers arriving 
and setting out by night, verifying, to the letter, the assertion 


THE CHALLENGE OF BA RLE IT A, 


199 


of Macchiavelli, who, in writing to the Comune of Florence, 
shortly before this time, said, “ Of all the Courts in the world 
that where the most profound secresy is preserved, is the Court 
of the Duke.” And although he did not clearly expose the 
reasons, he left all at liberty to understand, that upon all 
imprudent tongues he imposed the silence of the dead. 

This correspondence was maintained by means of light 
vessels, which plied along the coast of Romagna, and anchored 
under the shelter of certain rocks at the foot of Gargano. 
From thence the messengers came, in a small boat, under the 
cover of night, to the castle, and from their crews Don Michele 
had chosen picked men for his expedition. During the eve- 
ning of which we are speaking, while the castle was filled 
with noise and revelry, Valentino was sitting before a table, 
turning over, under the lamp, to beguile the hours, a large 
pile of papers the couriers of the preceding day had brought 
him. He was dressed to a mantle, fastened before by a row 
of small buttons, with bust and sleeves of black satin, tightly 
fitted, and covered with several stripes of white velvet, ruffled, 
and only united to the arm in four places, by bands of the 
same stuff. Under the collai of the mantle, three or four 
buttons were opened, which exposed a coat of the finest mail 
worn underneath, a dress the Duke seldom laid off Those 
who have visited in Rome the Borghese Gallery, will remember 
to have seen a portrait of the Duke by the hand of Raphael 
in this very dress. 

Despite the strength of his constitution, he was troubled, 
at intervals, with a malignant humor similar to the erysipelas^ 
which sometimes lay concealed in his blood, and at others 
broke out in eruptions upon the skin, particularly the face 
At such periods, the livid paleness of his countenance changed 
into a spongious red, full of small ulcers, which discharged 
fetid humors, when the loathsome deformity of his face in- 
spired with disgust even those who were continually attached 
to his person. But a soul like his could not have clothed 
itself in a more appropriate covering. His confinement for 
many days, so contrary to his usual custom of life, especially 
in the Spring season had unbound those malignant humors. 


200 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


and brought them out in more dreadful action upon his features 
and fired his whole being with an inexplicable and ungovern- 
able fury, the ordinary consequence of such distempers. 

About eight o’clock, when the ball was commencing in the 
hall overhead, the door of the Duke’s room was slyly opened 
by a man dressed in dark red, tightly fitting breeches, a mantle 
reaching to the middle of the thighs, with a black cap drawn 
over his eyes, a sword and a dagger, and he bore a package 
under his arm. Valentino raised his countenance, and the 
messenger came forward with a salutation, and laid the package 
on the table without speaking. The Duke laid a hand upon 
the package, and said to the messenger : — 

“ To-night I leave this place — go into the farthest room and 
secret thyself, and whatever thou mayest hear come not forth 
till I call thee.” 

The man went out of the door opposite the one he had 
entered, and Caesar Borgia taking from his belt a small dagger 
that glistened in the light, cut the red silk bands which bound 
the package with apostolic seals. It was a letter in parchment, 
written to him, he supposed, by one of his men whom he kept 
at the court of Rome. As he opened it a little golden ball 
rolled out upon the table. At the sight of it the Duke sprang to 
his feet with suspicion ; but examining more attentively the 
seals, and the writing, he became re-aSsured, and resumed his 
seat. Nor should his alarm be considered ungrounded. The 
modes of administering poison at that period were so murder- 
ous and subtle, even to the sending of it sealed in letters in such 
a manner that on opening them the fatal effect was immedi- 
ately produced. It was natural in the Duke, if at the sight of 
an object he did not expect, he was startled, for if ever a man 
lived in this world capable of putting with his first thought, 
an infernal construction on anything, he was the man, without 
a question. 

The letter was written in a cypher, the key of which no one 
had but himself and the Pope. He knew the character well, 
and he read it rapidly — such was its language : — 

“ A few days since we had a long interview with the 
ambassador of the most Christian king, who strongly urged us 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


201 


to enter the League against the Catholic kmg, to spoil him of 
the Realm, even offering us (wonderful) supplies in subduing 
Siena, and the State of the Count Gio. Giordano ; to which 
conditions we have not wished to acceed till we learned of 
your success with the magnificent Gonzales. We cannot, 
believe that France, although at the present moment she may 
seem irresistible in arms, can long make head-way against the 
army of Ferdinando, under the command of such a leader, who 
can so easily receive supplies, or recover from his dangers, by 
means of the sea. The French troops unwillingly sustain a 
harrassing and protracted war. It will therefore be wise policy 
to keep in with both, and in the mean time the two armies 
will come to some encounter, which will end in something, 
and we shall then know what course to adopt. 

Maestro Amet, Ambassador from the Sultan, reasoning with 
us of the wonderful experiments of the art (astrology, I suppose) 
showed us, that through the influence of Saturn, which with 
Jupiter and Venus, is in the chamber of the Sun in the ascend- 
ant, that we are to encounter great peril during the present 
year, against which he has counciled us to provide, by carrying 
continually about us a ball of gold, like this I send you for the 
same purpose. Vale, 

Dat . Romae in .^dibus Vatic, Die XV, 

Mensis Martii IDIII.” 

Alex. p. VI. 

As the Duke of Romagna read his father’s letter, he fell into 
deep meditation, alternately casting his glance from the manu- 
script to the golden ball he kept rolling between his fingers. 
His face assumed a smile, in which could be read contempt on 
one side, for he believed neither in God or his saints, but on the 
other a timid and suspicious credulity, for he had faith in 
astrology — so true is it that the human mind must repose on 
some principle that stretches beyond this world. Even had he 
not already determined to leave that same night for Romagna, 
the contents of that letter would have brought him to the 
decision. He thought Don Michele and his companions could 
not long retard their coming. He therefore placed the golden 
ball next to his breast, with the air of a man who seems to say, 


202 


THE CHALLENGE OP BARLETTA. 


“ let the worst come,” and began to gather, in a single package, 
the papers and effects he was to take with him. 

In a few moments all was in readiness. He then returned to 
the seat he had left, and knowing not what to do with himself, 
. once more drew forth the golden ball, and turned it over carefully 
again and again, and passed it from one hand to an other, 
thinking of the sacrament it contained, and of him who had 
sent it ; then wandering on from one idea to another, to the 
Religion of which he was the head ; and to articles of faith 
even he himself had once believed ; of his splendid station, the 
fruit of the subjection of the people to the Holy See. He 
laughed scornfully in his heart at the credulity of the mass, 
and thought — “ but I know how to turn them to account.” And 
then he heard a voice come feebly up from the depths of his 
soul, that shook that edifice of pride, of violence, and irreligion. 
It said — “ And if it he true.” 

The Duke did not wish to heed the voice, but he could not 
silence it. He rose in agitation, walked rapidly up and down 
the room, and did his utmost to divert his mind.’ It was all in 
vain — that “ and if it he true” chased him, harrassed his soul, 
and annihilated, if I may so say, all the sweets and the honors 
of power, and cast a dull cold mist over the magnificence of 
his fortune. He cast himself on the bed, hiding with des- 
peration his face in his hands, raving like a mad man. In a 
few moments he succeeded in calming himself a little, his 
eyelids weighed down like lead— they closed, and he fell 
asleep. 

But while he slept his fancies followed on m the same train. 
He imagined himself in Rome, on the road that leads from the 
Castle to St. Peter’s, the heavens and the earth were convulsed, 
all changed, all filled with darkness and lamentations. He 
tried to fly to St. Peter’s, but could not, and his breath was 
choked with suffocation. He seemed to be held to the spot 
and as he gazed around him he saw the host he had betrayed, 
assassinated and poisoned, and they caught him by the hair 
and the flesh with long desperate bowlings. And finally, with- 
out knowing how he got there, he found himself in St. Peter’s, 
in the midst of an indefinable chaos ; dark, full of weepings. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 


203 


rockings and tremblings of walls, the bursting open of tombs, 
and the wanderings of ghosts, and all the while he was torn 
in pieces by the victims he had sacrificed, crying in his ear 
“ THE JUSTICE OF GOD.” This then, thought he, is that Judgment I 
believed would never come — And then he rushed forward, and 
wdth a desperate struggle sought refuge near the Pope, whom 
he saw seated on his throne at the foot of the church, surround- 
ed by a palid dim light. But he was repulsed by his own 
brother the Duke of Candia, whose wounds were still fresh, 
and instead of blood came forth a foetid discharge, and his 
form was slimy and swollen hke a putrid corpse dragged from 
the water, and on the other side the Duke di Beselli, and 
Astorre Manfred, and women and children all weeping and 
extending their arms to the Pope crying — Justice and Vengeance, 

The Duke started from sleep, and sprang up, and sat on the 
side of the bed wide awake, (The clock had a few minutes 
before struck nine). The hum of many voices, the noise, the 
murmur of gaiety, came faintly down from the halls of the 
Castle over his head, hardly passing the massive ceiling. That 
same scream that had interrupted the conversation of Donna 
Elvira and Fanfulla, the Duke heard for he was still nearer. 
It seemed to be just before the door of his apartment which 
opened on a sandy slope of beach between the sea and the 
walls of the Castle. He stepped out to see who had given the 
scream ; he saw nothing but an open boat whose prow was 
lightly moored on the sand. He looked up to the balconies 
and windows but he saw no one and was about to enter his 
room again, but he took a few steps towards the boat, and, 
stretching out his neck, he saw a woman lying in the bottom 
of the boat, with her face hid between her hands, weeping. 

After the first moment of surprise he resolved to advance, 
and slipping into the boat he put one arm under the female’s 
waist, and the other under her knees, and raised her from the 
boat and bore her, half senseless as she was, into his own room 
and laid her on the bed. But what was his astonishment, 
when, on lighting the lamp, he recognised the face of Ginevra. 
The image of that countenance had been too deeply impressed 
on his recollection ever to be forgotten. But he could not coii- 


204 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


ceive what strange casualty had now thrown her alone into 
his hands after she had eluded the snaiis and plots of Don 
Michele. 

“ Henceforth,” said he to himself, “ I’ll believe at least there’s a 
devil, for none but a friendly devil could render me such a 
glorious service.” Placing the lamp on a small table near the 
head of the bed, he seated himself on the bedside, and carefully 
watched the movements of Ginevra’s face to catch the first 
sign of returning consciousness. The delight of enjoying at 
last a long delayed but cursed vengeance, lit up his eyes with 
a liquid flame, and electric sparks flashed out from under his 
eyelashes, and the humors that issued from his face seemed to 
boil, till his entire countenance took the color of blood. Never 
did the face of a man wear a more horrible expression than 
Caesar Borgia’s at that moment, for with that disgusting dis- 
temper, in all its deformity, were mingled all the black linea- 
ments of infernal crime. And there lay the wretched Ginevra 
pallid, immoveable, despair sculptured on her face, all aban- 
doned and broken-hearted, with that fiendish wretch gazing 
down on her triumphantly — it was a painful — a dreadful 
picture ! 

In this position they both remained several minutes, and 
Ginevra might be called happy, till she recovered her con- 
sciousness. Her eyes were closed, and she could not know 
where she was, and the face of the terrible being who was now 
her absolute master, was for the moment, shut out from her 
gaze. But this could not last. Poor Ginevra’s hour had come ! 
A slight shudder told Caesar Borgia that his victim was about 
to open her eyes. In that place, and at that hour, he was cer- 
tain no one could obstruct him — her screams would not be 
heard through those thick ceilings, while the halls above were 
ringing with gay festivity. Thus finding himself entirely 
secure, he formed the infernal resolution of enjoying, without 
losing a moment, the fruit fortune had so unexpectedly thrown 
before him. 

At length a deep sigh escaped from the breast of Ginevra 
which raised the covering thrown over her bosom. For a 
moment she opened her eyes and closed them immediately. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


205 


A second and a third time, and then began to fix them on the 
strange massive ceiling above her, but she only saw it indis- 
tinctly, without an idea of the place where she was; and her 
eyes recoiling from the image of that loathsome countenance, 
turned away with an expression of desolateness that would 
have moved the compassion 'of any other man in the world. 
As she gradually recovered her consciousness, the first recol- 
lection that came rushing back on her, was the image of 
Fieramosca, in the gallery, at the feet of Donna Elvira. 

Oh, Ettore !” she said, hardly articulating the syllable, “ it 
was true then ! I am betrayed by thee !” and covering her eyes 
and forehead with the palms of her hands, she held them for a 
few moments. Valentino heard that name, his lips slightly 
contracted into a scornful smile. Only till now, did Ginevra 
remember she should be in the boat, and raising herself on 
her elbow to get up, she found herself on a soft bed, and 
opening her eyes in alarm, she saw the Duke — she gave a 
scream, but his hand cut it short on her lips, by seizing her 
throat, and he forced her to lie back on her bed. 

“ Don’t cry, Ginevra,” he said, “ thou wilt only waste breath. 
I’m rejoiced thou hast come to see me, and I’ll reward thee for 
the trouble of taking a sail at this hour. However, thou wert 
not searching for me. Is it not so ? What dost thou wish ? 
All balls don’t turn out round.” 

Poor Ginevra heard these .words with a tremor which anni- 
hilated her strength. It was long since she had seen the Duke, 
and she did not recognize him, but she was horror-struck at his 
face ; and she had, moreover, a confused recollection of that 
countenance. Conscious, however, she could not defend her- 
self, she only exclaimed : 

“ Signore ! who are you ? Have pity on me ! What do you 
wish ? Leave me * * and the Duke — ” 

“ Dost thou remember, Ginevra, at Rome how thou did’st 
conduct thyself many years ago, towards one who loved thee 
then as he did his own life, and who would have made thee 
gifts, and loaded thee with caresses that would have over- 
whelmed thy heart? Dost thou remember thou didst use 
towards him manners that would have been insulting, even to a 


206 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Stable-boy ? Dost thou remember thou didst scorn his love and 
despise his offers — that thou didst bear thyself with a pride that 
could not have been pardoned in a Queen ! Well ! know thou 
to whom that was done ? I am the man, and know that man 
is CsBsar Borgia !” 

This name fell like a mass of lead upon the heart of Ginevra 
and blotted out all hope. But she lay without any answer, 
gazing on the Duke, all trembling, as she would have gazed on 
a tiger that held her m his claws ; and the idea hardly entered 
her head she should try to melt his heart by an appeal. 

“ And now thou knowest who I am,” continued the Duke, 
“ thinkestthou of compassion from me? And yet I could bend 
my will and restrain myself from visiting on thy head the 
vengeance I can and should visit on thee. But on one condition 
only, Ginevra — thou must give me what thou alone canst 
give.” 

These words, less violent, could not but rekindle in the 
breast of Ginevra a ray of hope; and with her hands clasped, 
endeavoring not to show in her countenance the disgust she 
felt for him, she knelt before him, as the penitent kneels before 
the cross, and prayed him not to crush a feeble and unprotect- 
ed woman, already broken-hearted. 

“ I entreat you, sir, by the agony of Jesus, by that day, in 
which even you — although now so mighty on earth — shall stand 
a naked soul in the presence of -the Eternal Judge : * * — If 
you ever had a female you loved, tell me — if she had fallen 
into the hands of another, and was praying in vain for mercy — 
if your mother, if your sister, could be in the dreadful crisis I 
am, and were praying, and praying all in vain — would you not 
call down the vengeance of heaven, oh, tell me truth ! against 
the wretch who had committed the outrage ?” 

These words, which associated the idea of virtue and purity 
with the names of Vannozza and Lucre tia Borgia, provoked a 
smile on the face of Valentino, who knew somewhat of their 
history; but it was a sinister smile, which only increased 
Ginevra’s terror. But she ceased not her entreaties, and her 
voice gradually assumed a thrilling tone of lamentation, till. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


207 


through her sighs and groans, the last words hardly found 
utterance. _ 

“ I am a desolate and forsaken woman, — what good, what 
glory, can a powerful Prmce, like you, find in pouring out your 
vengeance on my poor heart ? Who knows the moment will 
not come in which the recollection of having shown me mercy 
will not be a balsam to your heart ?” 

To attempt to tell the wild anguish and despair of the 
wretched Ginevra, at this terrible moment, to describe her 
tears, her pleadings, and, at last, her maddening screams, and 
frantic imprecations, would be impossible, and the picture 
Avould be too horrible for the reader. — We will only say, her 
fate was fixed, and irrevocable ! 

In the meantime, returning with his companions, Avith his 
hands empty, foiled in his plot, and trembling to meet the 
scorn of his master, Don Michele reached the foot of the castle. 
Finding the two boats, of Ginevra and the messenger draAvn 
up to the Duke’s door, he began to feel some suspicion. He 
landed, and went up to the door. Hearing a noise within, and 
suspicious some ill-luck had befallen them, he tried the door 
and found it locked ; nor would his fears have been dispelled 
had not the well-knoAvn voice of CcEsar Borgia, crying out 
“ Wait,” convinced him his lord was in no danger. He could 
not divine the reason why he was not at once admitted, and 
he put his ear to the keyhole to listen. 

After some minutes of the most profound silence, unbroken, 
save by the bursts of revelry above, or the echo of the distant 
laugh, and the murmur of the light Avaves gently rocking the 
tAvo boats against each other, Don Michele, who was all ear, 
suddenly heard the Duke’s voice, with a scornful laugh, 
saying,— 

“ Now go and pray God and his Saints and then hearing 
his footsteps approaching the door, he withdreAV, just as the 
Duke turned the key and came forth. 

Don Michele began to make his excuses, but he was soon 
interrupted “ Tell me all this at another time, for the present 
I knoAV a good deal more about this business than thee.” 

These words would, perhaps, have made Don Michele sup- 


208 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


pose his master was angry with him, had he not known by the 
sound of his voice and the expression of his face, that he had 
a secret, with which he had nothing to do. 

Turning to the men who had accompanied Don Michele, 
Valentino said : — “ Quick, there, get ye into the boat, and wait 
for me under St. Ursula. And you, come with me.” 

The former sprang to their oars, and were soon out of sight. 
Don Michele and the Duke entered his apartments, and came 
out soon after, bringing Ginevra, whom they placed in the 
boat where she had been found. Don Michele discovered on 
her clothes, on her left side, marks of blood ! 

When this was done, the messenger was called from his 
concealment, in the bed-room, and the three stepped into the 
boat without exchanging a word. They rowed on, and over- 
taking the other skiff, they entered it. 

The Duke sat on the stern, and Don Michele before him at 
his feet. He now knew why his master cared so little for 
the failure of his plot, but he wished to narrate to him the 
reasons why he had come back to the castle without effecting 
his object. He, therefore, related to him minutely the mea- 
sures he had adopted, and hoAV they had been assailed by a 
superior force, from whom they narrowly escaped, after losing 
their captive. 

“ But it was a bad job for one of them,” he added, giving a 
sign to Pietraccio, who, as we have seen, had been struck on 
the head by an oar, and fallen senseless in the bottom of the 
boat, where he remained a prisoner. He had just that moment 
come to his senses, and was seated about two yards from the 
Duke. The men, believing him nearer dead than alive, and 
seeing the impossibility of escaping from their hands, had not 
disturbed him. 

“ This ruffian,” continued Don Michele, “ leaped into the 
boat, like a fury, but Rosso brought him to, with his oar, un- 
der the ear, by a blow that put him to bed. I thought he was 
dead, but I see he’s plucking up a little.” 

During the conversation of Don Michele, Pietraccio had 
become aware he was sitting before the man whom he had 
been searching for that very evening. Valentino perceived 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


209 


that the bandit was eyeing him with a scowl, and a wild 
maniac look, which made him suspect he was plotting some 
malicious design against him, and he was about to order him 
to be thrown into the sea. Don Michele, too, who, as the 
reader will remember, had overheard the last words of the 
assassin’s mother in the dungeon of St. Ursula, and her com- 
mand to seek vengeance on Caesar Borgia ; Don Michele also 
saw, as he eyed him furtively that he was meditating some 
desperate act. The Duke’s assassin agent, although he served 
his master faithfully, because he was well paid, would, never- 
theless, have rejoiced to see the bandit make him pay dear for 
an old injury, if he could himself have escaped all imputation. 
'T he reader may easily imagine how he felt towards his master, 
when he knew that the woman, who had died in the dungeon 
of the tower, under his own eyes, was his wife ! 

When the encounter of Fieramosca and his companions 
brought Pietraccio into his power, several projects flashed con- 
fusedly across his mind, and he half laid a plan to aid the 
assassin to avenge his wrongs upon Caesar Borgia ; but in so 
short a space of time he could form no definite plan, and 
without fixing on any particular way, he was only resolved 
on seeking the first occasion that presented itself ; and now 
that occasion had most likely come. In fact, a moment of 
silence followed the last words of Don Michele, which gave 
the young bandit a calm interval, to execute his desperate 
purpose. He rose from the spot where he lay, and passing 
to the side of Don Michele, who pretended to try to stop him 
as he shot by, he sprung upon Valentino, like a wild beast 
on his prey, to tear him to pieces with his teeth and claws. 
But the Duke, who was on his guard, was ready for him, and 
Don Michele had hardly time to seize Pietraccio by the shoul- 
der before he fell dead into his hands, transfixed by the dagger 
the Duke wore at his belt, and which he had branded, at that 
critical moment, with incredible swiftness. 

The whole affair had been so instantaneous, that the rowers 
only turned around at the noise when all was over, and 
resting on their oars, they saw Valentino sheathing his dagger, 
as he kicked from him the still palpitating corpse, and ordered 


210 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


it thrown into the sea. “ Madman, scoundrel,” exclaimed Don 
Michele, apparently alarmed at the danger the Duke had run. 
“ But no man could make me believe that fellow was not 
something else than what he pretended. A few days ago I 
found him in the dungeon of the tower of the convent, shut 
up with his mother, and they had both been taken by the 
police with a band of brigands ; the mother died from wounds 
received in defending herself, and before giving up the ghost, 
she gave her son a necklace, telling him some story (which 
has escaped my memory), saying she had received the neck- 
lace from a lover at Pisa. * * But * * wait, Rosso, before you 
pitch him into the sea, I’ve a mind to see if he has it yet 
round his neck. The gold, if nothing else, is worth more to 
us than the fish.” 

Suiting the action to the word, he stripped off the young 
bandit’s doublet, and finding the chain, he held it out in his 
hand and showed it to the Duke, who had been eagerly listen- 
ing to his words. Valentino was not so completely master 
of himself as to conceal the agitation this unexpected sight 
called up. For a moment he was out of himself, and his 
hands, clasped on the jewel suspended from the necklace, fell 
to his legs as though his last strength had left him. He again 
took the seat he had before occupied, and gave an order the 
second time, in a husky voice, to cast the -body into the sea. 
Turning his head the other way, he knew he had been obeyed, 
from the plunge that followed, and the splashing of some water 
into the boat. He gathered up the chain, clasping it in his fist, 
and folding his mantle around him, he rested his head upon 
his hand and was silent. 

Feigning respect for the meditations of the Duke, Don 
Michele went forward and sat down among the oarsmen, and 
all moved on in silence together ; nor was a sound heard, as 
they rowed on, but the dripping of the water from the oars 
when they rose from the sea. This villain of Valentino had 
done what, till then, perhaps no one had ever before done 
to that man. He did succeed in stirring up memories in his 
heart, which must have been something like remorse, and a 
remorse so void of every consolation, it must have resembled 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


21 


the torments of the damned. Don Michele felt, too, how 
great was his triumph, for he knew well, by experience, the 
nature of what he had so well tasted. 

After these incidents, they went on their voyage, and reached 
the vessel which was waiting for them, and they spread their 
sails, without loss of time, for their return to Romagna. But we 
will forward the villains no further. 


: 


CHAPTER XVII. 


The departure of Fieramosca and his friends from the ball, 
had been observed only by a few, and it had not disturbed 
the general gaiety. Fanfulla had made his way so rapidly 
from the terrace, where he had been with Donna Elvira, that 
he had escaped observation. He had gone to lay aside the 
spoils of his friend, and returned to mingle with the dancers 
as though nothing had happened, laughing in his sleeve at 
the success of his joke, and dying to find somebody to tell it 
to. The daughter of Gonzales wandered about, seeking for 
a sight of Ettore amongst the crowd, but she could not find 
him, nor divine the reason for his wish to conceal himself 
from her. 

Nearly an hour had thus passed, when Brancaleone and 
Inigo entered, and asked for Gonzales of the first they met. 
He was pointed out in a corner of the room, engaged in con- 
versation with several of the French Barons. They advanced 
to him, and drawing him aside, related to him all that had 
happened, — that they knew Valentino was in the castle, and 
this violence had been committed under his order ; and they 
besought him to tell them how they were to proceed. Gon- 
zales, who knew his guest to be capable of such villainies, 
and even greater, if necessary, after a moment of confusion 
requested the two knights to follow him, as he led the way to 
the apartments of Csesar Borgia. On their way he met Don 
Garcia, and beckoned him to follow. 

He did not confess the Duke was in the castle, for he would 
not break his faith; but remembering that he had taken his 
leave of him that very day, telling him he must set out in the 
night, it seemed strange to him he should have chosen the 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


213 


very last moment of his stay to work so dark a deed. At all 
events, he was determined to have the matter cleared up, and 
calling for two lamps, he bound on his sword, and led the 
way through a passage which conducted to a winding stair- 
case. They descended, and he opened two small iron doors 
that guarded the entrance. There was yet another door to be 
opened, and Gonzales stopped, and told his attendants, in a 
low voice, to wait for him in silence, and not to advance 
till he called for them. He then opened the door and descended 
to the Duke’s apartments, which he found deserted, without 
lights, and everything in great confusion, — here a chair and 
there a table overturned, near the bed a fallen lantern, with 
the oil spilt upon the floor, and the adjoining rooms all empty. 
He then called his attendants^ and, after a moment’s reflection, 
he said : 

“ In keeping faith with a villain, I would not expose the 
innocent to the risk of outrage. Remember that the Duke has 
been here for many days. He was determined to-night or to- 
morrow morning to depart ; of the rest I can say nothing more, 
for nothing more do I know. We are all persuaded he is capa- 
ble of any crime, and he may well have been the author of all 
this. Take such a course, then, as seems best to you ; pursue 
him if you wish — you have my full permission — and you, Don 
Diego, lend them all the aid in your power.” 

Inigo was for scouring the sea, with the hope of finding his 
boat still lurking around Barletta ; but nothing could he spy 
through the windows ; and unwilling to waste time in unbar- 
ring the ponderous mass, he ran to the small door which 
opened on the bit of beach we have already described. He 
was familiar with every portion of the castle. As he stepped 
out, he saw a little boat, and in the bottom of it a young 
female, whom he could not recognize, but it instantly oc- 
curred to him it might be Ginevra. 

He screamed for his companions, who came rushing down to 
the boat ; but when they saw her thus abandoned, they knew 
not what to think. With all the care possible, they carried her 
to the Duke’s bed, which they found turned up in confusion. 
They spread it up as well as they could, Emd Gonzales, when 


214 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


he saw the wretched creature all covered with bruises, her 
face scratched, her hair dishevelled, and bearing marks of 
blood, he rushed up stairs to find some female to whose care she 
might be committed. Not wishing to make the matter public 
just then, ignorant as he was of all the circumstances, he 
thought he would commit her to Vittoria Colonna, whose dis- 
cretion was already well known to him. 

In the banquet hall he found the daughter of Fabrizio, and 
led her quietly to the bed of Ginevra, narrating to her on the 
way what had taken place, and how necessary, in that hour 
of darkness, were all her resources of consolation for the deso- 
late being, none of them knew. The generous heart of Vit- 
toria Colonna accepted the charge with eagerness and gratitude, 
and when she reached the bed, and gazed for a single moment 
on tlie face of the sufferer, she began to arrange the couch 
and the pillows with all that solicitude and tenderness with 
which Providence has so specially endowed the female heart, 
making her almost the only dispenser of consolation to the 
afiiicted. 

Ginevra lay in a sort of lethargy, brought on by her many 
sufferings, which had ended in a total prostration of strength ; 
she could neither be said to be out of her senses, nor hi her 
right mind. She lay where she had been placed ; if they 
moved her arm or raised her head, she made no resistance, 
nor seemed to be conscious she had been stirred. Her eyes 
were open, but they had lost all their life; they wandered 
around the room vacant and expressionless. Vittoria knew 
that the less violent the symptoms of this state appeared, the 
more cause there was for apprehension ; but she sent away 
the men and called in some women, who administered spirits 
and cordials, which soon restored to Ginevra the life that 
seemed ahnost extmguished. 

The first sign she gave of having recovered the use of her 
faculties, was a wild momentary gaze around the room, fol- 
lowed by a rapid spring from the bed, as if she wished to es- 
cape. But her exhaustion was so great she would have fallen 
to the ground, had not Vittoria caught her in her arms, and by 
gentle violence replaced her upon the bed. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


215 


“ Oh God ! ” exclaimed Ginevra, “ Are you, too, in league 
with him ? You seem too gentle to be so ; you are young and 
beautiful, but yet you have no compassion for me ? ” 

“ No,” answered Vittoria, pressing her hands to her lips, 
we, and all in this castle, are here to render you aid, to help 
you and defend you. Oh ! be quiet, for the love of heaven, for 
here you have no one to fear ! ” 

“ Well, then, if it be so,” said Ginevra, throwing her feet 
again from the bed, “ let me, let me go ! ” 

Vittoria, thinkmg this wish to escape arose from wandering 
of mind, and seeing her so weak and disfigured, tried to per- 
suade her by kind words to have patience for a moment ; but 
the horror for that place had now become an uncontrollable 
mania, which opposition only infiamed, and she put forth all 
her power, as she screamed, in tears — 

“ Madoima, for the love of God, and of the holy Virgin, I 
ask thee only to be taken from this bed ! Throw me into the 
sea, the fiames — but, oh ! take me from this bed — it will not be 
long I shall trouble you ! A drop of water, for I feel that my 
vitals are on fire ! 0 let me speak a few words with Father 

Mariano of S. Dominico ! But let us go away — let me go ! * 

JC :«c * » 

And as she said this, she rose from the bed, Vittoria no longer 
offering her any resistance ; for she saw her desire was firmly 
fixed ; and not without great exertion from her and her maids, 
they carried Ginevra, by main force, up the stairway to a 
retired room, where Gonzales had ordered a bed arranged. 
Here undressed and laid to rest, she heaved a sigh, and said — 

“ Signora, God sees everything, and He sees if in my heart I 
pray Him to reward thee for the good thou hast done — Virgin, I 
thank thee ! And you. Signora, who are the cause, at least, 
why I shall not die in despair, I only pray thee to make haste 
and send for Father Mariano. Tell me what time is it — day or 
night ^ I no longer know what world I am in !” 

“ It’s eleven at night,” answered Vittoria. “ We will send 
for Father Mariano, but the alarm under which you are suffer- 
ing, gives you unnecessary fear. Calm yourself — keep quiet, 
my dear girl ! Here you are safe, and I will not leave you.” 


216 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


“ Oh ! no, do n’t leave me ! — If you knew what consolation 
your kind eyes give my heart, when they gaze on me ! — Sit 
down here on my little bed — there, I will move a little towards 
the wall — no, no, have no fear of disturbing me — nay, here I 
lie better.” And remaining some moments in a stupid state, 
she was seized with a shivering of horror ; and almost beside 
herself, she exclaimed — 

** Oh ! if you knew what horror ! — to be buried alive ! — to be 
smothered under heaps of corpses ! — to see above you those 
fiendish faces, full of corruption, laughing still ! * * ♦ Oh ! God 
— Oh ! God — it seems I am there yet i ♦ * *» And as she said 
this, she clasped her protector to her bosom, who, seeing all 
words were useless in her wild ravings, embraced her, and 
strove to quiet her by the warmest caresses. 

“ Oh ! my lady,” continued Ginevra, hiding her head in her 
bosom, “ I know not what I say — I know I am talking wildly, 
but I have been too, too cruelly assassinated ! And I did not 
deserve it ! * * * What, what had I done to make him treat 
me so P’' * * And the Holy Virgin had promised to conduct 
me to safety i ♦ * * i had prayed to her so sincerely, and then 
to abandon me ! It is ti’ue, I have been a sinner, but more un- 
fortunate than guilty — oh 1 yes, a great deal more — and what I 
have suffered no one can tell but me ! ” 

“ Yes my dear, I believe it,” answered Vittoria, “ but calm 
yourself and say not that the Virgin has abandoned you, do 
you not see she has sent me to dry your tears, and restore you 
from your afflictions ? See, I am by your side * I will not 
leave you, and if this be enough do not fear you will be for- 
saken. But if your case demands the aid of others, if the one 
who has outraged you is to be punished, if some disorder is 
to be remedied, speak, trust to me * * Fabrizio Colonna, 
my father * * * Gonzales * * all are ready to offer 
themselves * * .” 

“ Ah, my lady,” interrupted Ginevra, “ all the world together 
could never give me a peaceful moment, or extract a drop of 
poison from my cup. In this world all is over * *. But I 
thank you * * Oh ! yes for the last consolation I shall feel 
you have administered to me, and therefore do not call me 


the challenge of barletta. 


217 


ungrateful if I do not tell you my woes, for it is impossible, 
they cannot be told, and if I do not accept your offers * * 
God will reward you for them * * He can do it. * * * I can 
only thank you * and kiss those blessed hands which will 
support my head in the last hour, and then close my eyes. 
* * Promise me you will not abandon me till I am all cold 
in death * ♦ 

Vittoria tried to banish such thoughts from her mind, and 
persuade her that her life was in no danger, but Ginevra 
interrupted her — 

“ No ! no ! my lady its useless. I know what has taken 
place, do not deny me this consolation, my blessed angel. It is 
true ? You will not deny me ? There ! See, I take advantage 
of your kind offers, and you can’t call me proud or ungrateful. 
Will then you give me your promise ?” 

“ Yes, yes, my dear, I promise you, if it be necessary.” 

“ Oh ! now I am tranquil, now call Father Mariano, and then 
all will be finished here below. * Give me another drop of 
water, for me thinks I have burnmg coals in my heart * * 

that lamp, if you can take it away, it pains my sight. Pardon 
me for so much trouble — but it will soon be over.” 

When these little services had been rendered, Vittoria sat 
down on the couch, and shortly after Inigo who had gone to 
wake Father Mariano appeared at the entrance, and asked if 
he might admit him. “ Come, come,” said Ginevra. 

A tall monk, of a pale and subdued countenance, half hidden 
under his cowl entered the door and approached the bed, say- 
ing, “ Christ keep thee, Signora.” The rest went out and he 
remained alone with the sufferer. 

The presence of this man of God, his manners, full of that 
glorious charity which flows from a consciousness how divine 
and august is the mission of comforting man in his distress, 
showed at a single glance that all the passions and attachments 
of this world he had long ago forgotten. 

His history was a mystery to the inhabitants of Barletta, and 
even to his brethren of the monastery of S. Dominico, in which, 
without any charge of the Order, he lived, surrounded by a 
kind of reverence which was inspired by the example of his 
10 


/ 


218 


THE CHALLENGE OE BARLETTA. 


virtues, by his learning and the persuasion he was a victim of 
a' religious persecution. It was whispered he had been in his 
time one of the first citizens of Florence of the sect of Piagnoni, 
or the mourners (whose founder was Gerolamo Savonarola), 
and that overwhelmed by the words of that terrible preacher, 
he had abandoned nhe world- and taken from his hands the 
Dominican gown in S. Marco. To these statements, which all 
esteemed true, were jomed other reports more uncertain, that 
he had broken ties of heart to devote himself to the service of 
God. * * It was said that this sudden change had given rise 

to grave scandals, hatred, and vengeance on the part of the 
female abandoned, who inflamed a persecution agamst the 
monk by the Court of Rome, and after the death of the founder 
he had been with difficulty secreted by his superiors who had 
prevailed on him to escape m disguise, and take refuge under 
another name in the monastery of Barletta. Here in this 
unfrequented spot he had lived unknoAvn. 

These were the reports of his history, correctly calculated ; 
but the darkest malevolence used have sought in vain for any- 
thing else to stain his name. In his heart the severe doctrines 
of Savonarola had found a soil prepared for the seed, and aided 
by bis natural disposition, ready to sacrifice aiiythmg to truth, 
they had brought forth the fruit of charity and untiring zeal. 

The martyr fires Avhich had burnt his master to ashes, had 
consumed his whole sect together; and the papal vengeance 
had silenced those who detested the abuses of the Roman court. 
Father Mariano lived tranquilly in his seclusion, since God did 
not esteem him worthy of dying for the tmth, contented in not 
being compelled to be an idle spectator of evils against wliich 
he was not permitted, to Jift up his voice. 

Seating himself at the head of her bed, lie blessed her and 
asked her if she wished to confess herself. 

“Oh, yes! father,” answered Ginevra, “I have no other 
desire left in the world, and had I not felt that my strength and 
my life were gomg, I would not have disturbed you at this 
time, but I have only a short time to live ; but don’t let us 
waste time, let me die m the grace of my Lord God, and with 
the blessing of the holy Roman Church.” 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


219 


“ Life and death are in the hands of God,'* answered Father 
Mariano, “ and his will be done. On your part do all you can, 
and I doubt not you will have his aid.” 

After the sign of the cross, and the ceremonies used at the 
bed of the dying, he told her to proceed. 

To open to him all her heart in its most secret depths, she had 
to give him a history of her life from the beginning, with her 
unfortunate marriage, the supposed death of her husband, and 
her wanderings from country to country. Her confession was 
interrupted by frequent faintings, and in part, badly connected, 
for her brain was too wild as she dwelt on so dismal a story. 

“ Father,” saidGinevra, as she finished, “ I have been for many 
years, it ’s true, with one who was not my husband, but I have 
committed no sin except in exposing myself tO danger. God 
alone has saved me. I have neglected to seek out my hus- 
band since, assuruig myself certainly that he was dead. But 
at last when I found him, I resolved to return to him imme- 
diately, and I began to execute my purpose ; * * and with 

the help of the Virgin, I hoped I should succeed. But oh God! 
instead of that, where have I fallen ?” * * 

And here she related to Father Mariano how in landing at the 
foot of the castle, she saw Ettore and Elvira m close conversa- 
tion, which so overcame her she had fallen to the bottom of 
the boat, and ha'd only come to herself in the room of Valen- 
tino. When she had brought the relating of this cruel fact to a 
close, she broke into a convulsion of weeping and despair, 
and incoherent words, which but too well showed the grow- 
ing alienation of her mind. 

Moved in the depth of his heart, the good friar, with that 
discretion the importance of the crisis demanded, did all he 
could to calm her agitation for a long time. He was unsuc- 
cessful till exhausted nature yielded to that paroxysm which 
left the unliappy sufferer more reduced and enfeebled than 
ever. 

“ Father,” continued Ginevra, in a still feebler voice, “ is it pos- 
sible then, that God, that the Virgin, have disregarded my tears, 
and cursed my pam ? The vengeance of God has fallen like a 
thunderbolt upon my head when methought they promised 


220 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


compassion. The punishment of my sins has already been 
enormous, * * but I fear a punishment more tremendous 

still— * * I fear [ am to die despairing of pardon— * * 

I feel that God is hardening my heart in these last moments 
— * * I am just passing away, and I can neither forget that 

man, nor pardon her. * * Oh ! pray for me ! Help me 

while it is yet time ! Speak to me of hope.” * * 

“ Of hope ?” interrupted the monk, “ do you not know that 
he who sends me to you is that God who purchased your 
salvation by the death of the cross — ^who promises* you mercy, 
and would promise it if you were loaded with the sins of the 
whole world, that you may not do injustice to such infinite 
love by despairing of his pardon ? And to win that crown of 
glory and joy uixceasing, what does he ask of you ? He asks 
you to love him as he has loved you ; to suffer a little for his 
love as he has suffered so much for yours ; to pardon him who 
has injured you, as he pardoned the beating, the outrages, the in- 
sults, and the death. Behold him in heaven where he is waiting 
for you and longing to clasp you to his arms to dry your tears, 
and turn them mto joy unspeakable. The enemy who held you 
as his own cannot bear to have you escape him ; he is trying 
every device to ensnare you ; he attempts to rob you of hope, 
but he shall not succeed. I, the minister of the Eternal God,” he 
exclaimed, as he rose to his feet in the solemn act of extending 
his hands over the head of Ginevra, “ swear to you by his holy 
name, that your salvation is written with pardon in the book 
of life, if by a single act of love you knew how to purchase 
so great a boon. The divine blood of the Word descends into 
your soul like a ray from heaven ; it is his blood that washes you 
from every stain; it fills you with peace and joy — with pain 
for having offended Him who spilt it for you. May it give you 
strength to spurn and contemn the assaults of the enemy who 
.is seeking your ruin.” 

‘ Oh ! my father,” answered Gmevra, all subdued with vene- 
ration by the words she had heard, “ God speaks through your 
mouth. I can then again hope, and am not abandoned for 
ever ?” 

“ No, blessed soul ! for the more cruel the conflict, the more 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLFTTA. 


221 


glorious will be the palm. But now, that God gives you grace 
and time to feel your sins and his abundant mercies, think not 
of turning back ; and remember what he tells thee ; ‘ it would 
have been better for them not to have known the way of life, 
than to forsake it after you had known.’ ‘ He that putteth 
hands to the plough and looketh back, is not fit for the king- 
dom of God.’ The image of that man cannot forsake your 
heart — see where you had treasured up your hopes, from whom 
you expected joy and consolation — see for whom you have 
neglected the love of your God ! For one who could not pre- 
serve the wordly and culpable confidence he inspired in your 
heart ; and who has, at the first breath, turned his back on you 
to seek another. Such is the value of the world’s promises ; 
and yet, to follow him, you contemn the infallible promises of 
the Eternal ; and when He shows you so clearly, the vanity of 
your desires, you almost reject instead of prostrating yourself 
before this miracle of goodness. Can you not pardon him ? 
And in what has he offended you ? First, he even does not 
know her — ^besides, she is a free maiden, and can listen without 
crime to his addresses. Oh ! how should you rather love her, 
and adore in her the instrument adopted by the hand of God 
for your salvation. And I, too, am a sinner — I was, yes, I was 
depraved, and so blinded as to seek in created beings peace 
of soul. God called me — I followed his voice with bitterness 
at first ; but, then, how rich a recompense has not divine good- 
ness accorded me, for the small sacrifice ! What tranquil joy 
of loving, and being sure of a recompense, immense, eternal ! 
Oh ! believe me, blessed soul ! that I am a man and a sinner, 
greater than you, and I have been through the proof — every- 
thing is gall, and uncertainty, and darkness, but the love of 
God — the service of God, and the hope in his mercy.’ ” 

“ Oh ! yes,” exclaimed Ginevra, interrupting him, heaving a 
broken sigh, “ You have opened my understanding — ^you have 
conquered me ; yes, I pardon, I pardon with all my heart, and 
I will show the proof of it. Send her to me and let me see her, 
and embrace her before I die; and may they live happy 
together as I hope God will have mercy upon me in the life to 
come.” 


222 


THE CHALLENGE OF EARLETTA, 


The monk fell kneeling to the side of the couch, and raising 
his eyes and his hands to heaven, he exclaimed : — 

“ Variis et miris modis vocat nos Deus — how many and how won- 
derful the ways God takes to call us to himself! Let us adore the 
work of his mercy.” 

After remaining in prayer a moment, he rose, blessed and 
absolved the young sufferer, and then continued : — 

“ Well, you are firmly resolved to see her, and do this act of 
paradise ?” 

“ Yes, father — send her to me, for I feel the need of pardon- 
ing her before 1 die.” 

“ And God, I tell you in his name, has already pardoned you 
— ^you are already his ; an'd-jtfhis holy purpose is the sign of 
your salvation.” 

The monk started to go in search of D. Elvira, and Ginevi'a 
called him back. 

“ I have still one favor,” she said, to ask you, “ and do not 
deny me if you desire to see me die in peace. When I am no 
more, go to the French camp, find my husband (among the 
soldiers — he is called Grajano d’Asti ; and is under the pay of 
the Duke de Nemours), and tell him that in my last hour I 
implored pardon of God, as I ask it of him, if I have done him 
an injury — tell him, that by the solemnity of the death-bed, I 
swear to him that my soul, as it leaves the body, is as pure as 
when he received me from my father — let him not curse my 
memory ; and have him say one mass for the peace of my 
soul.” 

“ Be blessed ! * * and be calm — your desire shall be exe- 
cuted.” 

“ One favor more I wish to ask of you,” continued Ginevra. 
“ I know not if it be well or ill, but God, who sees my inmost 
soul, knows if my motive be pure. * * I wish you would seek 
also him and Ettore Fieramosca — he is a lancer of Signor 
Prospero ; tell him I will pray for him, that I pardon him — 
that is * * no, don’t speak to him of pardon, for, after all, I 
am not quite certain * * it might have been another that 
resembles him * * no, no, tell him only to think of the soul 
* * that T feel at this hour how great has been our error * * 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


223 


tell him to think of another life, for this passeth away like a 
vapor, and warn him to be ready when the trying hour comes, 
and let him * * try to make his salvation sure. And then tell 
him that if God, as I hope, accords me his mercy, I will pray 
for him that he may come off victorious from the battle-field, 
and cover the arms of Italy with glory.” Father Mariano 
gave a sigh, and said, “ Also this I will do.” 

The dying sufferer lay some time without speaking, and the 
memory came back on her mind of Zoraide, the being she 
had protected, and against whom, too, during those last days, 
she had felt some unkindness : she besought the monk to 
seek her also, in the convent of St. Ursula, and consign to 
her a necklace, with her last salutations, and request her to 
wear it for the giver’s sake. She recommended to his care 
that unfortunate, forsaken being, and besought him to find 
her some safe retreat, and, above all, to try to make her 
a Christian. After which she continued — 

“ One more charity I ask of you, and as it is the last, I’m 
sure you wont deny it. Have me buried in the little subter- 
ranean chapel of St. Ursula, clothed in the dress of the convent. 
It consoles me to think I shall sleep in peace near the image 
of that Virgin, who has at last listened to ray prayer, and 
put an end to all my miseries.” 

“ Your desires,” rejoined the monk, with difficulty restraining 
his tears, “ shall all be executed.” Having said this he went 
out and brought in Vittoria Colonna again ; and seeing that 
Ginevra’s strength was fast failing, he spoke in her name, 
that she might not waste her strength. 

“ Signora,” said he, “ I pray you to find Donna Elvira, and 
send her here : this poor sufferer wishes to say a word to her.” 

Vittoria, who was not prepared for such a request, felt a 
momentary surprise; but without making any reply left the 
room, as Ginevra said, “Pardon me for giving you this trouble, 
but there is no time to loose.” 

It was almost midnight, and the -ball was over — the halls 
were being deserted, and the guests were descending the grand 
stairway, attended by the Barons of the Spanish army. — 
Gonzales had at that moment taken leave of the Duke de 


224 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Nemours and his cavaliers, who mounted their horses ana 
returned, attended by a train of torches, to the camp. 

In the court-yard there was a crowd, on foot and on horse- 
back, and the noise of the multitude echoed throughout the 
castle. The ladies, according to the custom of those times, 
mounted the horses behind tlie cavaliers who attended them, 
and the crowd began to vanish, and the noise subside, till 
the court in a few moments was entirely deserted, except 
by a few servants who were occupied in their work, passing 
back and forth. 

Doors were heard opening and shutting, lamps were seen 
flitting past the balconies and windows, and at last, when the 
clock struck the hour of midnight, the gate warden raised the 
draw-bridge Avhich led out on the piazza. The clanking of the 
ponderous chains ceased, and a dead silence followed which 
was unbroken for the rest of the night. 

Vittoria had, in the meantime, passed through the halls 
where they were arranging the furniture and extinguishing the 
lights, and reached the room where Donna Elvira had already 
retired and begun to lay aside her ornaments worn at the ball. 
She found her thus occupied, assisted by her maids, who 
seemed to have lost all their patience by the discourteous 
manner of their mistress. She was excited, her face was 
flushed, and the expression of her countenance seemed to in- 
dicate anything but satisfaction with the scenes she had, 
during the evening, passed through. When she saw Vittoria 
enter, an inward consciousness, begotten, perhaps, by secret 
remorse, made her suspect that her friend would address her 
in a tone which, at that moment, she felt would be difficult to 
bear. She, therefore, received her with an appearance of 
surprise which did not entirely conceal her impatience. Vit- 
toria perceived it, but without appearing to notice it, requested 
her, in a sweet voice, to be kind enough to delay retiring for 
a quarter of an hour, and accompany her to the chamber of 
Ginevra, who had requested her presence. She was conse- 
quently obliged to explain to her how Ginevra came to be 
in the castle, and Gonzales’ daughter, who, like all impetuous 
spirits, had, at the bottom, a good heart, was willing to go. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


225 


particularly as she found the visit had proved less disagreeable 
to her than she had anticipated. 

They accordingly went together to Ginevra’s chamber, and 
drew near her bed. Elvira’s beauty had not shone forth so 
strikingly, even when she was robed in all her ornaments of 
gaiety, as now when her free hair was floating in long golden 
masses upon her shoulders. Father Mariano lowered his eyes, 
and poor Ginevra as she gazed on her, felt an inward rush of 
emotion, and heaved a sigh which excited all the compassion, 
of the friar’s heart. The three females remained silent for a 
moment, when Ginevra raised herself on her elbow, saying : — 

“ Signora, you are astonished I have been so bold as to 
disturb you, since I neither know you, or am known to you 
myself — but one in my situation may be pardoned everything. 
But before I speak freely to you, I ought to ask your permission 
— may I say a few words to you with freedom ? Whatever 
your answer may 'be, it will be soon sealed with me in the 
tomb — but may I speak to you in the presence of this lady, or 
do you wish us to be alone ?” 

“ Oh !” replied Donna Elvira, “ she is the dearest friend I have 
in the world, and she loves me far better than I deserve — speak 
then, my dear lady, and we shall listen to you kindly.” 

“ Well then if it be so, and you grant me liberty, there is only 
one question I wish to ask you.” 

And then she stopped a moment, as if to gather strength, and 
prepare the question she knew not how to begin. Her resolu- 
tion to pardon the one who had caused her such overwhelming 
grief, had been formed with all the sincerity of her heart— but 
who could be cruel enough to condemn this unfortunate being, 
if, at the moment she was about to become sure that her eyes 
had not deceived her, and that the young knight she saw at 
the feet of Donna Elvira, was, indeed, Ettore, she felt an invin- 
cible repugnance against knowing that dreadful certainty. 
Who would have the heart to condemn her, if she still cherish- 
ed a dim hope of having herself mistaken Fieramosca for 
another. Be this as it may, we must believe that these senti- 
ments were not yet entirely extinct, and they gave being to the 
10 * 


226 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


short lived doubt that caused this moment of silence. At last, 
however, she resolutely demanded in a clear voice : — 

“ Tell me then, and joardon me, if I dare to ask such a 
question — were you not this evening in the balcony over the 
sea, about nine o’clock, and was not Ettore Fieramosca at your 
feet 

This interrogation, as unexpected as it was direct, .shocked 
both her listeners, although for very different reasons. Elvfra’s 
• countenance took the color of burning fire, and she could not 
utter a syllable. Ginevra, whose intense gaze was fixed on her 
face, understood all, and she felt her blood freeze in her veins — 
but she continued in a changed voice : — 

“ Signora, I am too bold, I know, but look on me, I am dying, 
and I ask of you, by that pardon we all hope for in the life to 
come, not to refuse me this 'favor — answer me — was you 
there ? * was he ? * 

Donna Elvira thought she was dreaming ; she turned a timid 
glance towards Vittoria, who seeing stamped on her face the 
dread she felt of her reproof, and knowing this was not the 
moment for showing it, embraced her, and re-assured her 
without say mg a word. 

Ginevra felt herself dying with the struggle of uncertainty. 
She extended her open hands, trembling, towards the maiden, 
. and with a voice which seemed a groan of despair : — 

“ Well, then !” 

Elvira drew her friend closer to her bosom, and dropping her 
eyes, answered : — 

“ Yes, * * * we were there.” * * 

The countenance of the heart-broken Ginevra, was so 
suddenly changed, she seemed to have become emaciated in 
a single instant. But she raised herself with difficulty, to sit 
up in bed, and seizing Donna Elvira by the hand, she drew her 
towards her, and throwing her arms round her neck, she ex- 
claimed : — 

“ God bless thee, then, and make you both happy !” 

But the last word was scarcely audible, and perhaps, before 
it had entirely passed her lips, her spirit received in Heaven the 
reward of a victory the most arduous woman can ever achieve 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


227 


over herself, of a pardon the most magnanimous the human 
heart can ever bestow. 

Her arms still flung around Elvira’s neck, gradually relaxed 
their hold, and Ginevra’s body fell upon the bed. 

In a single instant, her countenance took the stamp and the 
color of the dead ; the two maidens saw it, and screamed 
together. The friar remained a few moments breathless, and 
then, clasping his hands, exclaimed, “ This is the image of 
heaven !” And then all three knelt and prayed for the repose 
of that wearied spirit which had merited it so well. They 
composed her hands upon her breast, and the friar, placing in 
her Angers the cross he wore at his girdle, set a lamp at her 
feet, and said, requiescat tn pace. Inwardly praying now for 
her, and again bowing, as if to demand her intercession as a 
soul that seemed to him safely landed in glory, he led the two 
maidens forth from the mournful chamber, and returning to the 
side of the couch of the dead ^hej;here. passed the rest of the 
night in prayer. 


One of the principle motives of Gonzales in yielding his con- 
sent to the challenges between the Spanish and the French, 
and the French and the Italians, had been to gain time for the 
arrival of the succors he was awaiting from Spain, by sea ; 
for, deprived of their aid, he had been so inferior in force to the 
enemy, he had been obliged to fortify himself within the walls 
of Barletta, without daring to risk any important engagement. 

But, in the course of the day, the French baron saw his 
guests. He had received letters, announcing to him the imme- 
diate arrival of a fleet of succors, and as they had already 
passed Cape Reggio, they could not long delay their arrival at 
Barletta. Knowing, therefore, the great struggle was fast 
approaching, and that he ought not to suffer the chivalry, so 
lately kindled in his army, to be damped by the arrival of fresh 
troops, he managed, by adroitly alluding to the subject with the 
Duke de Nemours and the other French officers, to persuade 
them to come to the combat the earliest day possible. It was, 
accordingly, decided that the Spaniards should flght the day 
after tlie banquet in an open field, on the sea-shore, half a 


228 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


mile out of the gate which leads to Barri, and the Italians the 
third day in a field which had already been surveyed and 
chosen by Brancaleoiie and Prospero Colonna, near the borgo 
of Quarato, half way from Barletta to the French camp. 

The knights of the4wo parties, informed of this decision by 
their respective leaders, were occupied in preparing for battle. 
The French, who were to take the field, left the ball and re- 
turned to the camp, before their companions, to get everything 
ready for the following day ; and the Spaniards retiring in the 
same manner, each to his own lodgings, to make the necessary 
preparations as soon as possible, and snatch a few hours of 
repose before morning. Inigo and Brancaleoiie heard the 
news, after having borne Ginevra to the chamber where she 
was to die, and were on the way to the friar. The former 
— who was one of the combatants — had been obliged to leave 
his companions the care of Fieramosca, while he went to make 
his own preparations. The two friends pressed each other by 
the hands, as Inigo said — 

“ How will he be able to take the field the day after to-mor- 
row, when he cannot to night stand upon his feet ?” 

Brancaleone made no reply, but shook his head as he bit 
his under lip, and showed by the expression of his face, that 
he felt all the force of the Spaniard’s words. He turned away, 
and going down to the water, entered a boat, anxious to reach 
the convent as quick as possible to inform Ettore, as he had 
promised, of the result of their search. 

But before we tell how he found the friend he had left in 
such distress, we must, anticipate what took place the fol- 
lowing morning, and narrate the conclusion of the Spaniard’s 
challenge. 

The sun had been up an hour, when the two companies, of 
eleven men-at-arms, on either side, took the field. Among 
the Spaniards, Inigo, Azevedo, Correa, old Segredo, and Don 
Garcia di Paredes, were the most renowned; and the rest, 
although less known, were brave men-at-arms, and well 
mounted. Pedro Nasarro had received from Gonzales the 
charge of umpire. On the side of the French, this station was 
vested in Monseigneur de la Palipse, who reckoned among his 
knights, Bajardo, the mirror of chivalry. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


229 


For a long time the battle was fought with equal fortune on 
either side. Segredo’s reins had at last, when drawn hard, 
been severed by the stroke of a sword, and his horse was 
rushing furiously from the field. This accident, contemplated 
by the code of duelling, was esteemed a defeat, and he to 
whom it happened obliged to surrender himself prisoner. The 
brave old Segredo, seeing his horse about to pass the limits 
designated by large stakes of wood, threw himself to the 
ground, and although— through the difficulty of the leap, and, 
perhaps, because years rendered him less active — he fell upon 
his knees, yet he still defended himself bravely against two 
mounted men. But his blade went to pieces, and having no 
other arms, and seeing it vain to attempt to take refuge among 
his distant companions, he was forced to surrender and retire 
from the field. But he had borne himself so gallantly he was 
applauded and pitied by all. 

The fight still went on, and fortune seemed to be turning in 
favor of the Spaniards. Several Frenchmen’s horses had been 
slain ; — and here it is well to advise the reader, that, despite 
the ancient code of chivalry, it was frequently the custom in 
these combats to stipulate before hand for the right to wound 
horses, that the battle might be more like war, where that 
courtesy was now seldom expected, and increase the peril of 
the combatants. After two hours of close combat, the umpires 
ordered the trumpets to sound, and the parties separated for a 
brief respite. 

The Spaniards were still all mounted, Segredo alone want- 
ing to complete their number. Only one Frenchman had been 
made prisoner, which left them equal in this respect, but seven 
of their horses lay dead on the field. Bajardo, however, was 
still in the saddle. After half an hour of repose, the combat, 
once more began, and, in spite of the valor of the Spaniards, 
their enemies still maintained themselves firmly entrenched 
behind the corpses of their horses, over which those of their 
adversaries could not be forced by the gashing spur. And 
thus, after many a useless effort, the French proposed to end 
the combat, leaving both sides to come off with equal honor 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


The resolute defence of the French knights, and the difficulty 
of vanquishing them, secure as they were behind the bodies of 
their horses, inclined the greater part of the Spaniards to accept 
their proposal. But Diego Garcia would not give his consent. 
He fiercely cried out to his companions it was a shame to re- 
treat before men half conquered, and insisted upon bringing 
matters to an end, to show that the Spaniards were their masters 
on foot or on horse. Having no arms about him but his sword, 
with which he could not reach them behind their fortification 
of horse flesh, he leaped from his horse in rage, and seizing 
up the large stones which fixed the limits of the arena, and 
which a man of ordinary strength would have even moved 
with difficulty, he hurled them into the midst of his antagonists. 
But they easily dodged the blows, and he found even this 
resort ineffectual. 

Nevertheless, they renewed the combat and it lasted till the 
sun began to sink in the west. The French kept their ground 
so bravely, that both sides fuially consented to withdraw. 
The umpires decreed the honor of the day equal, awarding 
superior valor to the Spaniards, and to the French greater 
firmness. The two prisoners were exchanged, and all exhaust- 
ed, worn down, and spiritless, they left the field, one party for 
the camp and the other for the city. 

When the Spaniards entered the town, it was nearly night- 
fall. They dismounted at the castle, and presenting themselves 
before Gonzales, related to him the fortunes of the day. The 
Great Captain was deeply disturbed, and he sternly demanded 
of them why they had not finished gloriously a day so well 
begun ? At this moment Don Garcia appeared, in all the noble- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


231 


ness of his nature. He who had so sharply reproached his 
companions on the field, for wishing to leave their victory in- 
complete, now, in the presence of Gonzales, boldly defended 
them, declaring they had done all it was possible for brave 
men to do, and accomplished the object for which they 
went to the field. They had made the French themselves con- 
fess they were at least their equals, in the charge of battle, on 
horse. 

But Gonzales unwillingly listened to these excuses, and cut 
short all further conversation by answering, “Por me j ores os 
emhie yo al campoy I sent you to the battle as their superiors,” 
and dismissed them. 

We will now resume the thread of what happened to Bran- 
caleone the evening before, after he left Inigo to return to Fiera- 
mosca. 

The impatience he felt in the passage to reach St. Ursula as 
quickly as possible, now subsided when he touched the beach, 
and began to think how he should announce to Ettore the 
misfortunes of Ginevra. Slowly he mounted the steps which 
led to the green plat of the convent; and composing his 
thoughts, he walked forward to the stranger’s house. But the 
conversation he had prepared was all useless. As he entered 
the room, he found Zoraide seated at the head of the bed, 
beckoning him to come still, for Ettore was in a quiet sleep. 
He drew back slowly as the maiden rose up to cast a glance at 
Fieramosca. He was sleeping tranquilly, and she went out, on 
tip-toe, and followed Brancaleone to one of the rooms near by. 

“ Everything is going on well,” said Zoraide ; “to-morrow 
Ettore will be as well as ever. But Ginevra, where is she ? 
Have you found no trace of her yet ? ” 

Brancaleone’s breath once more returned into his body, 
when he heard the good news, and he replied : 

“ Ginevra is in the castle and in good hands, and you can 
see her shortly ; but tell me, Ettore will really get well ? For 
day after to-morrow the combat comes !” 

“ Well, let it come !” 

A certain mysterious expression which accompanied tlie 
words of Zoraide, stimulated Brancaleone’s curiosity ; and 


232 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


wishing to know more precisely the nature of the malady of 
his friend, he was told he had been wounded but slightly in 
the neck ; but Zoraide said 'nothing of the dagger having 
been poisoned. Perceiving, however, an unusual expression 
in the face of the maiden, he continued to question her, but 
he succeeded in getting nothing more satisfactory. 

“ There is a saying with us in the Levant,” said Zoraide, 
playfully smiling, “ that a lion of the desert once had his life 
saved by a mouse. I will say nothing more now. It’s 
enough to tell you, that in a few hours the arm of Ettore Fiera- 
mosca will be as strong as the neck of a wild bull. But now, 
nothing is to be done but to leave him quiet. To-morrow he 
will wake in time to make all his preparations. I will return 
to his bed-side, to be ready in case of necessity ; trast to me — 
of the art of healing wounds I am mistress of all the secrets, 
and I have cured others more dangerous by far than this.’* 

Seeing there was nothing more to be done for his friend, 
Brancaleone requested Zoraide to quiet Ettore on Ginevra’s 
account as soon as he awoke, to announce the combat was to 
take place on the day mentioned, and that he would come to 
him about noon, if he did not himself, before that hour, appear 
in the city. Everything was arranged between them, and he 
returned once more to Barletta. Before going to his own house 
he wished to pass by the castle to learn the state of Ginevra ; 
but he found the gate shut and the draw-bridge raised, and he 
was obliged to wait till the following morning. 

It was hardly day-light when he again went to the castle ; 
but the eleven Spanish knights had already come out of the 
court-yard, to go to the field, followed by all those who were 
allowed to attend them, and there were few remaining. He 
mounted the stair- way without finding a person who could 
give him any information, till he reached the entrance where 
he had left Ginevra the evening before. He knocked, and 
Father Mariano, who had passed the night in the chamber, 
opened the door, and taking Brancaleone into a neighbormg 
room, related to him what had happened. 

This sad news was the more overwhelming to him, for he 
knew how heavily it would fall upon his friend, and at the mo- 


THE CHALI-ENfiK OF BAREETTA. 


233 


meiit, too, when he was the least able to bear it — when he 
needed all his strength for the approaching battle — and he 
feared that, sinking under the weight of the blow, he would 
prove hiferior to himself in so great a crisis. Bethinking him- 
self of the remedy, he arranged with the friar to conceal the 
death of Ginevra through the day, and the day after, he was 
himself to take charge of conveying the body to the convent, 
according to her desire, while Ettore was fighting on the field. 
They believed it wonld not be difficult to preserve it secret for 
the day, when the castle was almost deserted, and they deter- 
mined to commnnicate it only to Gonzales, that he might fur- 
nish the necessary aid in transporting the body, and conduct- 
ing the funeral with becoming propriety. 

As to Fieramosca, to whom they would be obliged to make 
some explanation, they agreed that Brancaleone should tell 
him that Ginevra was well, but could not see him that day, 
and only wished him to remember the honor of Italy, and bear 
himself on the field with all that heroism the occasion called 
for ; that she would pray for him and his companions in arms 
— all of which might be said without violating the truth, and 
they would encourage him to go boldly to the battle-field. 

VVhen this all-important affair was arranged, Brancaleone 
descended to the piazza, and went to the house of the brothers 
Colonni. He found them both in the court-yard, where the 
thirteen Italians were gathered, reviewing minutely their arms, 
and armor, and horses, that nothing might be overlooked that 
would not stand the proof on the coming day. 

Brancaleone, who had been warned of this review, had sent 
his grooms, and those of Fieramosca, with their horses and 
arms. But the master of the latter was wanting, and they all 
replied to each other’s interrogations, that they had not seen 
him, and knew not where he could be. 

Prospero Colonna heard this intelligence with surprise, which 
soon turned into indignation ; and when Brancaleone appeared, 
he asked him with a stern look, 

“ And where is Fieramosca, who does not appear ?’* 

“ Excellency,” replied Brancaleone, “ he will soon be here — 
his delay is not voluntary — an unforseen and pressing matter**” 


234 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


“ What can be so important for him as the business of to- 
morrow ? I never would have believed he could think of any- 
thing else at such an hour ! ” 

Fanfulla, who thought of the incidents of the previous even- 
ing, and wished to give another turn to the conversation, 
which would allow him to say something, laughingly replied, 

“ Ah, he must have danced too much, or he has found some 
new nail to hang the old one on, and then, we all know, to get 
up too early, sours * * * ” 

“ He ’ll have found a canker, which may God give thee ! ” 
interrupted Brancaleone. “ Believest thou, all are mad ILIte 
thyself ? I tell your Excellency, doubt it not, upon my honor, 
he’ll be here shortly. Nay, I’ll go myself to hasten his coming.” 

He thought this the safest course — for although he confided 
ni Zoraide, he feared some new obstacle might hinder him. 

Again he took his way to the port to make another visit to 
the island — he had entered a boat, but at the moment of push- 
ing off, a small skiff shot round the mole, and in it to his great 
joy he beheld Ettore, who caught his eye at the same moment, 
and leaping ashore, his first question was — 

“ Where is Ginevra ? is she ill ? what has happened to her ? 
come, quick, let us go to her ? 

“ Quick, rather let us go to the Colonni, for they are only 
waiting only for thee. Ginevra is well, and you will see her 
afterwards.” 

“ Well, I’m glad, but let us go to see her.” 

“ But has not Zoraide told thee, that to-morrow the combat 
comes ?” 

“ To-morrow we will fight, but now in the name of God, 
take me to Ginevra ?” * * 

“ Now thou canst not see her, nor canst thou see her to-day.” 

“ And I tell thee * * 

“ But if thou will not listen to me and let me talk, we shall 
never finish. * * Know then (and all this is from her, not that 
I saw her when she said it, but she sent me the message that 
I might tell it to thee). She is well— Signora Vittoria has 
been with her, and restored her, treating her with all those 
kind attentions her case required, and she wants nothing. She 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


235 


implores you to have no thought for her to-day, nor attempt to 
see her — that nothing disturb thee, and to-morrow thou con- 
duct thyself on the field in a manner worthy of thyself, that 
thou remember the honor of Italy,, and of all thou hast so often 
spoken of to her, and that she will pray Heaven to grant us 
the victory,” * * 

“ But, oh ! why is it, then, that I may not see her ? there is 
something under all this.” 

“ And I tell thee, there is nothing under all this. If I should 
try to tell thee everything that took place yesterday, [ could 
not do it for I do n’t know myself — but let this satisfy thee, in 
the name of heaven. For the present thou knowest she ’s safe, 
and when the battle is fought we ’ll know the rest ; this is not 
the moment to think about it. Let us go — for Signor Prospero 
and all the company are waiting for thee, and have already 
asked where thou art, and they wonder what can have taken 
place — fine time this to absent thyself — come, let us be off. 
Thou hast always been a man, and yet how little a thing it is 
that would make thee put honor, and thy own bright name, 
under thy feet.” 

“ Well, let us go — ^yes — we ’ll go,” answered Fieramosca, 
lialf angry, “ I ’m not a horse that needs a double spur — I only 
asked thee to see her a single moment, and one would think 
the world was coming to an end for it.” 

“No, the world will go on — ^but canst thou understand 
they’ve all been there a full hour under review — thou alone 
art wanting — what will they think ?” 

“ Well, then a little faster if you like,” replied Fieramosca, 
quickening his pace — for all this conversation had taken place 
as they walked slowly, one pulling towards the castle, and 
the other towards the house of the Colonna, “ let us lose no 
more time— thou art right— duty and honor before all.” 

“ As they walked rapidly on, Barcaleone asked him ; 

“ Well, then, a-propos, how dost thou feel ? and the wound 

“ Oh ! it ’s nothing, but I ’ll tell thee afterwards — for now we 
have no time — what infernal plots, and that poor Zoraide !— 
she would not tell me anything, but I understood it all from 
the pain I felt, the dagger must have been poisoned— and I 


236 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


would not have desired her to suck from the wound — but I 
owe her health, and perhaps life * * yes, I ’m almost certain 

that ’s the way it all happened. But I was so out of my head, 
that I can’t tell if this be the recollection, or if it were all a 
dream.” 

“Well, thou art restored i*” * * 

“ As perfectly as though nothing had happened.” 

At this moment, they entered the court-yard, and presented 
themselves before Prospero Colonna, who dropped a word 
about Fieramosca’s tardiness, and then resumed his important 
engagement. 

His examination was so careful, it lasted several hours. The 
horses were tried, the armor proved by strokes of lances, 
battle-axes and swords. The offensive weapons were tried on 
wood and iron, and all that could not stand the proof were 
thrown aside. About noon the review finished, and all retired 
to their lodgings except Ettore, who was detained under the 
pretext of arranging various items of the challenge, but in 
reality to prevent him from going away, to follow his own 
inclination. Brancaleone had taken Signor Prospero aside, 
and told him all that had happened, and begged him to keep 
Ettore occupied the rest of th-e day, and his request was lite- 
rally regarded. When night came, and no other reasonable 
pretext remained to detain him, he was dismissed, and attended 
to his house by Brancaleone who entered into conversation 
upon the profession of arms, and the manner in which they 
were to meet their antagonists the following mornmg, and he 
succeeded so well in fixing his attention, that Ettore’s fancy 
was entirely diverted from the subject which filled his heart.. 

As they crossed the piazza, the troop of the Spanish horse 
came up, and in asking and hearing the news of the day, time 
wore away till night shut in, and they retired to their lodgings. 

“ Those Frenchmen are tough-boned devils,” said Ettore, as 
he separated from his friend, “ and the Spaniards have found 
flesh for their teeth.” 

“ So much the better,” answered Brancaleone, “ we shall 
have men to deal with ; we do n’t follow the banners of Colonna 
for nothing. For myself, I hope to do the duty of two men to- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


237 


morrow — think ! what would not those ribald Orsini say, if 
they could hear we were worsted ! That poltroon. Count di 
Pitighiano, would like a good laugh; but for this time I think 
he ’ll not have the pleasure.” 

“ Oh ! no,” replied Fieramosca, and who knows but more 
than one of these Frenchmen will smart for trying to get a 
taste of the figs of Puglia ! But we must think about getting a 
few hours rest, and to-morrow we ’ll try to show them that 
man for man, we neither fear them, nor the whole world. 
Adieu, Brancaleone. I know what thou wouldst say,” he con- 
tinued, laughing, “/ear not, but till to-morrow night I ’ll not 
think of anything but the business in hand, and I swear to you 
that my blood boils this minute as it did not on the day the 
challenge came, and I hope I’ll not be the man to bring dis- 
honor upon Italy or you.” 

“ Of this I am more than certain,” rejoined Brancaleone 

“To-morrow,” added Fieramosca, pressing his hand, and 
the two knights separated. 

Before mounting to his chamber, Fieramosca thought he 
would take a glance at his stall, and going in he began to ca- 
ress his good battle-horse, with that kind feeling, and I might 
say affection, which every soldier feels for the companion of his 
fatigues and his dangers. He stroked his mane and lightly 
patted his shoulders, and the steed, bending back his ears, shook 
his head and playfully pretended to bite his master. 

“ Poor Airone, my good fellow, eat, and make good wax 
whilst thou canst, for thou art not sure of sleeping to-morrow 
night on this litter. For any other day I ’d take out Boccanera 
(black-mouth), and not risk thy skin, but to-morrow I must have 
thee under me, for I know thou wilt not take a false step.” 
And then, with a smile, he took his nose in his hands. 

“ Thou, too, art an Italian, and thou too, ought to be a 
crusader.” 

He saw everything was in order. “ Masuccio,” said ne, 
turning to his groom, “ at four let him drink, and then give him 
all the oats his body can hold, and at five, come and assist me 
in arming.” 

After giving these orders he went to his chamoer, and in a 


238 '' 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


few minutes he extinguished his light, and got into his bed 
with a firm purpose of reposing himself to slumber. At first 
he felt like sleep, but there came one thought, and then 
another, and still another, and two hours passed before he 
succeeded in closing his eyes a single moment. The fate of 
Ginevra, whose story as related by Brancaleone had given 
him some consolation, now rose once more on his fancy with 
all its shadows and suspicions. A thousand uncertain fears 
crowded around his heart. 

“ What,” thought he, “ can all this mystery mean, and I 
am not even to know to-morrow. Oh ! Brancaleone, can it be 
thou wilt deceive me?” 

A moment more and in his heart he would have cursed this 
challenge, but he spurned the thought from him, with contempt, 
before it was formed. 

“ Oh ! shame, shame !” he exclaimed, as he sat up in bed, 
“ how can such a vile idea enter my soul ! Am I no longer 
the man I was ? What would Ginevra say to see me so 
changed, and so cold to thoughts that once made all my veins 
run with fire ?” 

Such reflections so enraged him against himself that he 
leaped furiously from his bed, and finding he could not lie 
there he dressed himself and went out on the terrace. He 
sat down, as he used to, upon the low wall under the palm 
tree, and waited for the twilight of morning which was not 
far off. 

The pale waning moon hardly mirrored itself on the sea. 
Distant perhaps five hundred paces on the left rose up the 
castle, which, scarcely visible at that hour in its outlines, 
seemed vast dingy pile, shooting up its dim battlements 
from the summit of the great towers into the pale sky. Ettore 
sighed as he gazed on those walls which held all he cared 
for on earth, and occasionally he fancied he heard coming 
from a distance the murmur of alternate chanting, but so faint 
that while it seemed so, still it did not. 

At a window on the wing of the castle, of which he had 
only a side view, a light was burning, and it burned on all 
the night. He would have given his blood to see it extin- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


239 


guished, and turning his eyes away he exclaimed, “ I am mad 
to torment myself with such fancies,” but he could not help 
turning his eyes towards that window, and that light was 
always there ! 

With that species of insincerity which man so often practices 
on himself when harrassed by a perplexing thought, he tried 
to persuade himself of what he did not at all believe in the 
bottom of his heart — that Ginevra was well, that nothing evil 
had overtaken her, and that all the mystery that hung over 
the affair was the working of his own wild fancy. And if 
he still kept on trying to deceive himself, he did so because 
he knew how essential to his success it was that he should 
convince himself at least in some measure, that his appre- 
hensions were all the work of his imagination that he might 
concentrate all the thoughts and all the powers of his soul upon 
the approaching struggle. 

“ Ah ! yes, yes,” he said, shaking his head and running his 
hand over his forehead and through his hair, as if to dissipate 
the fancies that crowded on his brain, “ let us, first of all, think 
of our honor * * * and who knows but to-morrow, at this hour, 
I shall have already borne to Ginevra the joyful news, we ’ve 
conquered ;” and, then, stopping short a moment — “ and yet, she 
may see me borne into Barletta on my bier, and say : ‘ Poor 
Ettore. thou hast done all thou could’ st.'* 

“ And yet, what if this does happen ? I shall have died the 
death of a brave man, and she would weep over my tomb ; but 
she would not wish me to live with the loss of my honor. Nay, 
she would be proud to say : ‘ We were friends from our child- 
hood’ * * yes * but still she will be left here alone, without 
lielp — she knows not even that her husband is here, in the 
French camp ; and even did she know it, how could she pre- 
sent herself before him after so long a time ?” 

Ettore had formed and partly executed the purpose of recom- 
mending her to Brancaleone ; but, when he thought that he, too, 
might fall in battle, he resolved to write a letter to Prospero 
Colonna, to order that his small property in Capua, his house, 
his farm, his armor, and his horses, which were worth some 
thousands of ducats, should all be given to Maria Ginevra 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


240 

Rossi di Monreale. He struck a light, and in a short time the 
letter was written. He then thought of enclosing it in one to 
Ginevra, to bid her farewell, and recommend to her care the 
young Saracen, to whom he had so good reason to be grateful. 
The cocks were already crowing, and he heard his men at 
work in the stall below — he saw his time was short, and he 
wrote only these few lines : 

“ Ginevra, I am just mounting my steed, and I know not if I 
shall dismount this evening alive. If heaven has decreed that 
I fall, I doubt not, that after shedding a few tears over him, who, 
from his childhood, was thy friend and thy servant so faithful, 
thou wilt rejoice that I have met a death the most glorious and 
the most beautiful in the world. Thou wilt please accept the 
little estate T leave — thou knowest I have no obligations, and 
no near relatives. I only recommend to thee, in a single word, 
my faithful Masuccio, who, from the day when at Ofanto he 
received that wound in his shoulder, could be of little use to 
me, but he would run the risk, without thy help, of being 
obliged to beg in God's name, which would be a stigma upon 
my memory. One thing more I must tell thee. Thy husband 
is serving under the banner of the Duke de Nemours. — I have 
no more time. — The signal awaits me in the court-yard of 
Colonna. — God bless thee. — I recommend to thee also, Zoraide.” 

Ettore. 

At that moment he heard the short, broken blasts of the 
trumpet, preparatory to sounding the reveilleey a murmuring 
noise coming up from the ground-floor of his own and neighbor- 
ing houses — indistinct voices and steps of men and horses in 
the streets, indicated that the greater part of those who were to 
be actors or spectators of the struggle, had begun to put them- 
selves in motion ; but no sign of morning could yet be seen on 
the sky — a mist was spread over the heavens which shut out 
the stars. 

Fieramosca, who was sitting by the side of the open window 
closing his two letters, observed it as he looked out a moment 
where the diverging rays of his candle illuminated the track of 
mist it penetrated. The forbidding appearance of the weather 
increased the sadness that already hung over him. The bats 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


241 


that, flitted rapidly by the window, attracted by the light, the 
lugubrious cry of the sentinels on the towers of the castle, as 
the time came for changing the guard, all made the hour more 
gloomy ; and, for a moment, the struggling young knight was 
completely subdued. But the heavy tread of the men mounting 
the stair- way to enter his room, drove all sadness from his 
brow, and he wore as bright and gay a look as possible, that 
his gloom might not be discovered. 

Brancaleone appeared, all covered with armor except his 
head, attended by Masuccio, who bore the mail of Fieramosca. 
The bell of S. Dominico sounded for the mass the combatants 
were about to hear before they started for the field. 

“ Arm thyself, Ettore — in a few moments they will all be 
before the altar,” said Brancaleone ; and with the help of 
Masuccio, he had soon robed his friend in the burnished, beau- 
tiful mail he only wore on the greatest occasions. Made by 
one of the best artisans of Milan, it was so well fitted to the 
beautiful limbs of the young knight, and so skilfully knit at the 
joints, that it followed the contour of his body without dimin- 
ishing the gracefulness of his proportions in a single point, 
leaving him, at the same time, perfectly free in all his move- 
ments. 

Completely covered in mail, with his sword hung to his left 
side, and his poinard to the right, he descended with his com- 
panion, followed by their servants, bearing their lances, hel- 
mets, and shields ; and leading their battle-horses. They 
reached the Church of S. Dominico, where the thirteen cham- 
pions and Prospero Colonna, were all soon assembled with 
a crowd who gathered to witness the spectacle. 

The church was a quadrangle, with three naves separated 
by columns and acute arches of the rudest style ; and near the 
main altar two side wings extended, which formed a cross of 
the principal part of the building. The choir of the friars, 
placed, in the ancient style, before the altar, was of wood, 
with stalls divided by ornamented work in relievo, to which 
age had given a dark, lucid appearance. In the centre stood 
a bench which could accommodate thirteen persons, and here 
were gathered the Italian combatants. 

11 


^ 242 , 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Daylight was advancing, but it was not yet strong enough 
to penetrate the painted glass of the narrow windows, and 
nearly the whole ot the church was still dark, for the feeble 
light of the scattered tapers around the altar only glanced, 
in vibrating rays, from the knights’ corslets, leaving their figures 
almost invisible. 

Prospero Colonna, in his armor, stood just before them, and 
at his feet was lying a rich kneeling cushion of crimson velvet, 
with the “ Colonna ” embroidered in silver, borne there by two 
pages, who were standing a few steps behind him. 

The mass began, celebrated by the friar Mariano, and not 
a heart among the spectators capable of lofty and generous 
feelings, gazed unaffected upon the spectacle of those 
bold and brave young knights who bowed before the God 
of armies, their brows furrowed by steel and by hardship, to 
implore Heaven to crown with victory the swords to be lifted 
that day against an enemy who would cover with dishonor 
the Italian name. 

In their movements, to which a long use of arms had given, 
even in prayer, a proud air of victory, they still showed that 
they were conscious they were bowing before Heaven. Last 
of all, on the left, stood Fieramosca, immovable, with his arms 
folded across his breast. A few paces before him was the 
door of the Sacristy, open, and the persons attached to the 
church, who were passing back and forth in their various 
duties, would perhaps have been sufficient of themselves to 
distract his mind from prayer ; but besides this, a conversation 
and another spectacle contributed more than ever, at that mo- 
ment, to arrest his painful reflections. 

A man dressed in a dark torn mantle, with tangled red hair, 
and a face of suspicious look, was standing still between him 
and the Sacristy. Turning to a Dominican friar, whose corpu- 
lency filled a huge leathern chair from arm to arm, which 
constituted the entire furniture of the place, he demanded of 
him, in a hoarse, rough voice — 

“ Which am I to prepare, that for the poor or for the rich ?” 

“ Fine question,” replied the friar, moving no part of his 
body but his tongue; “ knowest thou not that Signor Gonzales 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


243 


pays the expense ? It’s none of these starved wretches of 
Barletta, whom they cart off as beggars, to get rid of giving 
tapers to tiie curate. * * Of the first class — I’ve already told 
thee once all about it — of the first class, bells, litter, and chant- 
ed mass — you seem to be unusually stupid to-day.” 

The other shrugged his shoulders, and going to one side of 
the Sacristy, disappeared from the sight of Fieramosca ; but 
the latter heard him put a key into a lock and open a door. 
Soon after he heard retreating steps, and a silence of a few 
moments followed. After a brief interval, he heard the same 
steps returning, with a sliding noise, as of something dragged 
upon the floor, which continued till the same man appeared, 
drawing a black bier woven in silver, with a cross at the 
head, and at the feet a skull .supported by two bones in the 
form of the cross of St. Andrew. After shaking from it the 
dust, he threw it upon a large spread of black velvet. While 
the undertaker was performing this office with that careless 
and insensible manner too often seen in the attendants of the 
Sacristy, a bright idea seemed to find its way far enough into 
his brain to raise a grin upon the skin that covered the bones 
of his cheeks. 

“ So there will be something to drink even for me, this time ? 
It’s many a day since I’ve had any of this work but for sailors 
and fishermen * * thank God, now and then we do catch 
some of these big fe — ” * * (here he suddenly turned aromid, 
with a timely glance, as though he feared he was overheard, 
and lowering his voice continued) — “some of these big- fel- 
lows.” 

“ Every one has his time once,” said the friar, cutting his 
speech in two by a deep yawn. 

“ And it may be — ” the undertaker went on adjusting the 
spread upon the bier, and stepping aside to see if it 
hung equally on both sides— “ it may be that Beca, that 
witch, my wife, prophesied right. Last night (hear this) we 
were in bed and talking about our condition, and having 
nothing to do, and that the woman’s night-gown and the 
new shirt I made out to get with the money I fished for in 
the plague, had come to pieces. * * And now see if it be true,” 


244 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


(he stripped up his sleeves to his elbows, to prove the truth 
of his assertion). “ And we finally concluded that if we keep 
on so a little longer, we shall die of starvation. Then this 
morning, before the Ave Maria, while I was getting up to come 
to the church, ‘ Oh, Rosso,’ says she, ‘ do yon know I ’ve had 
a dream?’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘what did you dream?’ ‘I 
dreamed,’ says she, ‘that the kitchen of Veleno’s tnn was 
filled with beds, and the host, yellow, yellow, the first one, and 
in fact,’ says she, ‘ the plague had come back again and we 
were made, and you went round Barletta dressed like a knight.’ 
In fact, as you say, friar Biagio, in war and in pestilence we 
are /iere— and it may be before evening—” (here he dropped 
his voice again, and seeing that no one in^ the church was 
looking at him, he pointed with his finger over his shoulder 
towards the thirteen knights), “ it may be that some of these 
will come home on four feet.” * * 

The friar, either through inattention or to maintain the rights 
of the hierarchy, took no pains to reply, and the dialogue 
stopped. When the undertaker had put everything in order 
he disappeared, and the bier was left standing in the midst of 
the Sacristy. It did not occur to Fieramosca, and had even a 
suspicion flashed upon his mind for whom it had been pre- 
pared he would have banished it as the thought of a mad 
man, but still he could not draw his eyes from it till mass was 
over. 

His thoughts naturally centered upon the idea that perhaps 
that day might be his last, and he turned his spirit fervently to 
God once more, to pray for the pardon of all his sins. His 
memory ran over all his life, from the hour he bore Ginevra 
from St. Cecilia, and he felt no other remorse than having 
concealed from her that Grajano was still living. For this, 
however, as for all his other sins, he had confessed Ifimself 
to God the evening before. He felt that he could tranquilly 
meet death. 

The mass was done; the thirteen knights left the church, 
following Prospero Colonna to his house, where they took 
some refreshment to prepare themselves for the battle. 

Among the articles of agreement between the Italian and 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


245 


French combatants, there was one which stipulated that every 
man-at-arms who was made prisoner could, without being 
obliged to follow his conqueror, immediately re-mount on the 
payment of an hundred ducats. Each Italian deposited his 
money with Signor Prospero, and the thirteen hundred ducats 
placed in sacks were loaded upon mules sent on ahead to 
carry provisions, and forage, and all that might be necessary 
at the camp. 

After breakfast they all went to the castle, where the Great 
Captain awaited them in the banquet hall. He took his leave 
of them in few words, with, a serene countenance, and when he 
parted with the company he told them he would wait for 
them at supper, and have twenty-six covers laid, so that if the 
French happened to forget to carry their ransom money with 
them, they might not be obliged to go to bed hungry. 

They then descended into the court-yard, where their horses 
were drawn up in a line, held by the grooms. They mounted 
and rode off two by two, preceded by the heralds, and attended 
by a multitude of friends and a crowd of spectators. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


At an equal distance from Barletta and the French camp 
where the plain stretchmg towards the hills begins to ascend, 
a level spot opens between the adjacent elevations, formed 
probably by some ancient alluvion, covering an area of three 
hundred paces on every side. The ground is composed of the 
hnest gravel and silicious sands, hardened by time, and bare of 
shrubs and herbs, affording a sure and sound footing for 
tramping horses. This was the spot chosen for the com- 
bat. 

A company of men sent forward by both parties the day 
before had levelled all the uneveimess of the surface. The 
limits had been drawn by a furrow, with large stones set up 
at equal distances, and under the shadow of a cluster of large 
holm trees which overlooked the entire field, seats had been 
prepared for the judges under a kind of tent formed of white 
and red stripes attached to the branches of the trees above. 
Before this tribunal twenty-six lances had been planted in plain 
sight, with the shield of the knights of both nations, with their 
names inscribed in large letters upon a parchment. Curiosity 
had gathered, from all the neighboring villages and villas, a 
vast crowd of peasants and country gentlemen who had 
reached the ground and taken their posts on the surrounding 
elevations long before sunrise. These who made pretensions 
to some rank sat with the old men, and the women upon the 
grass, while the rest, such as boys, beggars, and thieves 
climbed up into the trees, and when seen here and tliere through 
the foliage their faces and clothes offered a broad contrast to 
the green leaves around them. 

It was a beautiful spectacle, especially to one who stood on 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


247 


the land side and looked off towards the sea — the glance of a 
scene so rich in rural loveliness all enlivened by a vast multi- 
tude filled with so much enthusiasm and gladness. On the 
right immense masses of holm-oaks, reared themselves towards 
heaven, their deep rich green enlivened by the lighter and 
gayer coloring of smaller trees. Upon a plain still more dis- 
tant in the back ground, the borgo of Quarato, whose gate 
defended by a tower (the only objects of the town visible), 
surmounted with battlements with the road winding beneath 
them ; in the midst of all, the field of battle beyond, the shore 
of the Adriatic, the city and the castle of Barletta, and the 
colored forms of the edifices rising from the blue sea. Be- 
yond still, the bridge and the Island of St. Ursula, the tall 
peaks of the Gargano, and the line of the horizon. On the lefty 
the hills rising above each other and opposite to the place des- 
tined to the judges upon an undulating ground, covered with 
green grass clusters of lofty oaks, their trunks clothed with ivy 
in the full vigor of the most luxuriant vegetation. 

The night mist unfolded by the breeze of the morning went 
waiving into the higher regions of the air in clouds of fantastic 
forms, and already struck by the sun they flashed his golden 
beams. Other streaks of denser fog were still lightly resting 
upon the bosom of the plain, like beds of the whitest cotton, 
through which rose here and there clumps of lofty trees, or 
crests of hillocks. The disc of the sun just ready to burst 
from the sea sent up his golden light through the heavens, 
leaving every object on earth ungilded but by the reflection 
from the sky. 

The vast company assembled all turned their eyes involun- 
tarily towards the spot where he was to appear. On the 
distant verge of the sea at last flashed a burning spark, it grew, 
it took a form, and the majestic sun came rushing up like a 
globe of fire, scattering fields of light, giving form and color to 
everything, and redoubling his own glory in the undulations 
of the sea. 

A company of infantry that had arrived early kept the area 
cleared of people who were dispersed in groups around, con- 


248 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


gregated, for the most part, in places where the sellers of com- 
mestibles and wine had pitched their tents and raised benches 
and tables. Amongst this company was to be reckoned V eleno, 
the host of the inn, already well known to the reader. He 
had planted in one of the positions which commanded the best 
view of the field, his ambulating depot, under an arbor, 
where multitudes of his old military customers had already 
assembled. Two or three hugh frying pans were over the fire 
on as many portable iron furnaces ; a table made of rude 
boards, laid together, after a fashion, upon several stakes stuck 
into the ground to serve for legs, was covered with hugh dishes 
of fish, artichokes, and every kind of vegetables for frying. 

With two aprons and a cap neatly washed, and his shirt- 
sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, he held under his arm the 
flour box, in one hand the plate with the frying piece still 
raw, and with the other the fork to take it out, and he was 
busy in preparing to cook this dish so grateful to the southern 
Italians, without stopping for a single moment his chattering, 
laughing, asking and answering questions in the same hreath, 
and only mtempting these dialogues from time to time to sing 
la bella Franchescinay or to cry up what he then held in his hand. 
Ah, what anchovies ! Ah ! what anchovies. These little mul- 
lets are jumping alive ! Oh ! have you no eyes, or have you no 
money ?” And many other similar appeals to his bystanders 
which might have been heard half a mile off. 

At last a loud murmur from the multitude who occupied 
the higher places called the attention of everybody in that 
direction and passing from mouth to mouth the news went on 
that the French banner could be seen in the distance. A few 
minutes after it appeared at a turning of the road as it wound 
round from under a hill, and advancing the line reigned up in 
the order of battle on the upper side of the field, with their 
faces towards the sea. The knights dismounted with about 
an hundred and fifty companions and friends who had attended 
them, and leaving their horses with the grooms they advanced 
to the seat of the judges and dispersed themselves under the 
trees awaiting the arrival of the Italians. 

On the road to Barletta a cloud of dust, through which was 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


249 


soon distinguished the flashing of arms, showed that tliey weie 
not likely to tire the patience of their enemies. The crowd till 
now dispersed, drew up around the limits of the list, each one 
trying to get in the front ranks, in spite of the infantry guard, 
who, with those amiable courtesies for which the military have 
in all ages been so distinguished, struck upon the ground and 
sometimes upon the toes the heels of their pikes and partisans 
to drive back the wave which crowded upon them. 

The Italians arrived and halted in front of their adversaries 
ill the same order, and dismounting advanced also to the seat 
of the judges. After mutual salutations and the interchange 
of courtesies Sig. Prospero, and Bajardo, the two umpires con- 
versed together and decided that first of all the judges should 
be drawn by lot. 

The reader will be astonished I ’m sure, to find that the famous 
Bajardo is not numbered among the combatants on so impor- 
tant an occasion, and to find him filling the office of umpire. 
We will then tell him that we have felt no less surprise, for the 
same reason, nor can we form any other conjecture than that 
some wound not entirely healed prevented him from bearing 
arms, or that perhaps the fever he was suffering under at the 
time had so wasted his strength — ^but certain it is, we do know 
he was not numbered among the champions of that day. 

The names of several military chieftains were accordingly 
written, from the Spaniards, the French and the Italians in 
equal number. The papers were rolled up and thrown into a 
shield and the lot fell upon Fabrizio Colonna, Obigni and 
Diego Garcia di Parades who ascended the platform raised for 
the judges, where they opened upon a table the book of the 
Evangelist and read the oaths to the twenty six warriors, by 
which they swore to resort to no unfair , means in battle, 
declaring they bore no charms about their bodies nor their 
arms, and that they came to the trial relying solely upon their 
courage and natural strength. The stipulations agreed upon 
were again read in a loud voice, which accorded to each one 
the privilege of ransoming himself, his arms, and his horse, on 
the payment of one hundred ducats. One of the Italians 
emptied upon the table a sack of money they had brought. 


250 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


It was counted and consigned to the judges. It was expected 
the French would do the same. Seeing that no one came for- 
ward Prospero Colonna said to them, as courteously as possi- 
ble, 

“ And where is your ransom, Sir Knights ?” 

La Motte stepped forward, and replied with a laugh, “Sig- 
nor Prospero, see if this will not be enough.” The ire of the 
Roman Baron was deeply stirred at this ill-timed boasting, but 
he curbed his spirit, and only replied — 

“ Before selling the skin, the bear must be killed. But never 
mind; and although it was one of our stipulations that the 
ransom should be brought, yet we will not, on this account, 
throw any obstacles in the way of the battle.” 

“Signori,” he added, turning to his countrymen, “you 
heard ? This knight seems to think the case already decided : 
it rests with you to show him his mistake ” 

It would be needless to say, that this insult made the blood 
of the Italians boil. 'But no reply was made to Signor Prospero 
or La Motte but a smile of contempt, or a flashing glance of 
vengeance. 

When these preliminaries were over, the two parties were 
dismissed by the judges, and half an hour given them to make 
their preparations At the expiration of the time, a trumpeter, 
on horseback, under one of the trees at the side of the tribunal, 
would give three blasts, as the signal for the charge. 

The combatants returned to their steeds, and mounted the 
saddle, drawn up by their masters in a file, each one being 
four paces from the other. Colonna and Bajardo both exa- 
mined once more the curbs, the girths of the saddles, the 
buckles, and the joints of the coats of mail ; and if there were 
men in either army accustomed to such work they were the 
men. 

When this review was done Signor Prospero reined up his 
horse in front of the line and spoke in a loud voice — 

“ Signori ! think not I would address you a single word to 
fire the spirits of such men to battle. I behold among your 
number Lombards, Neapolitans, Romans, Sicilians; but you 
are all equally sons of Italy. Let the honor of the victory be 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


251 


equally divided betwen you ! You see before you the stranger 
who has proclaimed that the Italians are cowards ! I only tell 
you one thing — you see there that villain traitor, Grajano 
d’Asti ; he fights to cover the heads of his own countrymen 
with infamy ! You understand me ! See that he goes not from 
this field alive ! ” 

Fieramosca, who was near Brancaleone, said to him, in a 
suppressed voice — “ Ah ! if a vow did not bind my hands ! ’* 
Brancaleone replied — “ Leave him to me — I ’ve no vows — I 
know where to bring the blow ! ” 

The desire to kill Grajano had been begotten in him from the 
day he first heard the adventures of his friend, and now he saw 
he might annihilate the obstacle which stood between him 
and Ginevra. Hearing afterwards he was to be one of the 
French champions, he knew he should not lack the opportu- 
nity of executing his wish ; and the reader will not have for- 
gotten, that while the Astian knight was arming himself in the 
armory-tent near the arena, on the day of the tournament, 
Brancaleone had gained some useful information. Now, the 
unforeseen death of Ginevra had annihilated his first thought — 
but he did not abandon his purpose ; and he had been still 
more fired by the words of Signor Prospero, whom, as the 
head of the Colonna party, he implicitly obeyed. 

In the meantime, the two masters of the field retired to their 
posts — Bajardo to the side of the judges, and Colonna to the 
shade of the oaks. The latter, all armed but his head, upon 
a large black steed covered with a vermillion saddle-cloth, em- 
broidered with gold, raised his stern and lofty brow towards 
his countrymen, silently awaiting the trumpet call. He had at 
his side a beautiful young page of sixteen, dressed in light 
blue, with stockings of carmine, and various lieutenants of the 
army, in diflTerent attitudes, who, although they did not move, 
seemed to wear a bold and martial bearing. 

As the moment drew near, the silence became so general 
that only a monosylable, half suppressed, of those who stood 
next to them, could be heard. During this stillness, which gave 
the assembly an imposing and solemn aspect, the pawing and 
neighing of horses broke in from time to time ; for they had 


252 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


been stalled and high fed, and unable to stand quiet in the 
line, they were champing their long gilded bits, which they 
had covered with foam, arching their necks and tails, and 
rearing back upon their hind feet, snorting through their dis- 
tended nostrils, red as blood, while their eyes seemed to flash 
sparks of fire. 

In our times, it is difficult to form an idea of the martial as- 
pect of a man-at-arms of that age, all covered in steel, himself 
and his steed. Every knight, with his visor down, cased in mail, 
with his shield on his breast, and his lance on his thigh, forked 
to his saddle, whose iron-plated bows rose up before and be- 
hind, like two walls of defence, rendering it almost impossible 
for him to fall — thus planted, as he pressed in his knees, he 
was so entirely blended with his horse that all their move- 
ments were in such perfect union it seemed to personify the 
two natures of the Centaur. 

The fronts and sides of the horses’ heads were defended by 
plates of iron, which left no openings but holes for the eyes ; 
iu the centre of the forehead a point of steel; the neck, shoul- 
ders and breast equally protected with a massive mail, 
wrought in the form of scales, which left free all his move- 
ments, and a coat of mail, of the same description, covered 
the rump and the sides of the belly, leaving only two openings 
below for the rider’s spurs. The beautiful proportions of these 
noble animals were so disfigured by these masses of armor, 
that, from the legs up, they seemed so many rhinosceroses. 
Seen standing, it would have been thought impossible, not only 
for them to run, but to move ; but a jerk of the bridle or a touch 
of the spur, found them as nimble and ready as though tliey 
had been uncovered, so skilfully was their armor fitted. 

Besides the lance, sword and poniard, which every combat- 
ant bore upon his person, there hung from the saddle-bow a 
mace of steel and a battle-axe. In the use of these weapons 
of death, the Italians were renowned. The manner of orna- 
menting themselves varied with each one’s fancy ; over their 
helmets floated plumes of many colors, gathered, generally, 
around a long stem, formed by the tail of the peacock. Se- 
veral, instead of plumes, wore silk fringes, called by the French 


THE CHALLENGE OF BAR LETT A. 


253 


l^amhrequms : one wore a short cape, another a shoulder-belt, 
and those whose armor was rich and beautifully worked, left 
it uncovered. Even the horses had plumes, or some other 
ornaments, upon their heads, and the bridles, nearly a palm in 
width, festooned and of the gayest colors; and these orna- 
ments were often of immense value. Upon their shields, besides 
the designs they usually bore, the Italians had inscribed mot- 
toes fitting the occasion. That of Fieramosca, to cite one only, 
was — Quid possit pateat saltern nunc Itala virtus. 

At last a herald rode forward to the centre of the field, and ' 
forbade, in a loud voice, all there gathered from daring to favor 
or discourage either of the two contending parties, by actions, 
words, or gestures, and then returned to the tribunal. The 
trumpet wound the first blast — the second — and a gnat flying 
would have broken the silence — a third was given — the knights, 
with a simultaneous movement, slacked their reins, bent over 
the necks of their . steeds, and planting their spurs, they first 
reared together and then dashed forward, both sides charging 
at the same moment, as the cry, viva Italia on one side, and 
vive la France from the other, rung through the air and rolled 
over the sea. 

About one hundred and fifty paces were to be passed before 
they met. The dust began to rise, and rolled up till a dense 
mass covered the advancing squadrons, even before they came 
together, and shut out the view of the combatants ; but the 
shock was heard of horse against horse, and Imights shivering 
lances against the shields and cuirasses of their adversaries, 
like the crash of a tumbling mass of rocks rushing from a 
precipice, unimpeded at first, down a steep declivity, till it 
strikes among heavy trees, rending and sweeping to ruin all 
that stops its dreadful progress. The vast anxious multitude 
thus lost the sight of the first encounter ; for through that con- 
fused, dust-enveloped mass of men and horses, all they could 
distinguish was the flashing of arms, struck by the beams of 
the sun, and pieces of plumes, torn off in the fury of the shock, 
as they whirled above the confusion, and were borne off by 
the breeze. The crash resounded through all the neighboring 
vallies. Diego Garcia struck his fist upon his thigh with aston- 


254 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


ishment, half mad he was not himself, too, in the midst of the 
combatants. This was the only movement visible throughout 
the breathless, wonder-stricken crowd. 

For a few seconds that group of battle was unbroken, and 
an indistinct flashing here and there through the dusty cloud, 
showed that the knights were brandishing their swords, and a 
clashing of steel was heard as though the hammers of a score 
of forges had been suddenly set playing. The whole mass full 
of lurid light, sparkling like fire, resembled some dreadful en- 
gine of fire partially veiled in its own smoke. So complicated 
and so rapid were its movements, opening and shutting, and 
whirling in its fearful evolutions. 

Such was the anxiety to catch some glance, and to know 
who was first victorious, that a cry seemed ready to burst from 
the excited multitude, and an irrepressible murmur was heard 
along the lines ; but it was stifled by the signals of the heralds, 
and the sight of a horse without a rider, rushing wildly from 
the combat, so entirely covered with dust that the color of his 
saddle could not be distinguished. He ran round the area at a 
broken gallop, dragging the torn reins of his bridle, first under 
one foot and then the other, which jerked down his head as he 
stepped and nearly brought him to the ground. A deep wound 
across the shoulder was pouring out a flowing stream of black 
blood, which marked every track he made. After a few more 
steps he fell, fainting, upon one knee, and rolled upon the 
ground. He was then recognized as one of the French rider’s. 

In the meantime the fight went on — hand to hand, two to two 
— the cleaving strokes fell ; advancing or retreating to gain the 
advantage, the centre of the struggle spreading from the spot 
where the first shock was made. The wind swept the dust 
away, and left a clear view of the combatants. The unhorsed 
knight was Martellini de Lambris. To the misfortune of the 
Frenchman, Fanfulla was his antagonist, and with that mad 
fury, so full, however, of courage and peril, he drove his lance 
full against his visor, which hurled him his full length upon 
the ground, and made him test the softness of the earth. Fan- 
fulla had made one of his fine strokes^ and his voice was heard 
high and clear above the din of battle — “ There’s one.” Then 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


255 


perceiving Larlotte near by, who had lost a stirrup under a 
stroke of Fieramosca, he continued — “Ducats won’t do — money 
is too mean for him.” And as the fight opened, he said to the 
vanquished knight — “ Thou art my prisoner.” But he leaped 
upon his feet and answered with a thrust, which glanced from 
the polished cuirass of the Lodi knight. Not a second passed 
before the broad sword of FanfuUa, wielded with both hands, 
fell on the helmet of his foe, who — staggered by the first shock 
— reeled on his feet, and then followed another, and yet ano- 
ther blow. — FanfuUa cried out — “ Money won't do, — won’t do, 
— won’t do and the desperation with which the blows fell 
made him utter the words with that sort of tearing emphasis 
we hear from the centre of a huge log, when the rending blows 
split it open 

His enemy could not, with all his skill, ward off the tempest 
of blows ; he came to the ground half stunned, but he would 
not listen to a surrender. FanfuUa, exasperated beyond mea- 
sure, gave him the last stroke just as he was rising upon his 
knee, and it laid him immoveable upon the sand. 

‘ Satisfied now he asked. 

Bajardo, seeing he would be butchered uselessly, sent for- 
ward a knight-at-arms, who struck his baton to the ground 
between the two combatants, and cried with a loud voice — 
^‘Martellini de Lambris,prisonnier.’’ Several men ran to his help, 
and raising him up brought him to Signor Prospero. 

“ God bless tliy hand cried out the latter to the victor. 
And he consigned to the charge of his sergeants the French 
baron, who would not allow them to remove his helmet, but 
threw himself upon the ground at the foot of an oak, where he 
lay silent and immoveable. 

FanfuUa had already turned his horse off on a slow gallop, 
to mingle once more in the battle. He looked round to find a 
good chance to Lelp on the work, as he rode on, whirling for 
mere diversion his sword in the air, like a hand-mill, an exer- 
cise in which he bore the most skilful and rapid hand in the 
army. Casting a general glance over the fight, he saw that 
fortune seemed little inclined towards the enemy, and that the 
Italians were doing their duty. He then raised his voice louder 


266 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


than ever, calling La Motte by name, beginning once more his 
taunt, “ Money won’t do and he hummed these three words 
to an air, then sung in the streets by the blind. So that the 
air of the knight, riding in his own bizarre and dare-devil 
style, that wonderful play of his sword, and yet a pastime for 
him, the peculiar tone of his voice, all gave to that song so 
indescribably humorous a character, that it even disturbed the 
gravity of Signor Prospero, and he could not suppress a 
momentary smile. 

During this time, Ettore Fieramosca had hurled La Motte from 
his stirrups, but he did not unhorse him. He was a man of 
power and valor, unlike Fanfulla’s prisoner. Fieramosca, 
jealous of the honor won by the knight of Lodi, had begun to 
use his blade, in such a maimer, that the despiser of the Italians, 
with all his skill, could not but with difficulty bear up against 
him. The insults offered to him the evening of the supper, 
when he declared that a French man-at-arms would not deign 
to have an Italian for a stable-boy, all rushed back on Fiera- 
mosca’s memory as he bore down on him with thrusts and 
parries unriveting and splitting the armor of his adversary, 
and sometimes wounding him. He scornfully asked — 

“ At least we know how to use the currycomb. Help thy- 
self— help thyself— for deeds go further than words here.” 

La Motte could not bear this mockery, and he levelled a blow 
at his head with such fury that Ettore, unable to break it with 

his shield, tried to parry it with his sword, — but he failed it 

flew into fragments, and the Frenchman’s blade falling upon 
the collar of his breast plate, cleft it through and wounded his 
shoulder, just above the collar-bone. Fieramosca waited not 
for the second stroke, — he threw himself under his antagonist, 
and, clasping him by his arms, tried to drag him to the ground. 
La Motte dropped his sword, and struggled to unlose his grasp. 
This was just what Fieramosca wanted, — breaking away from 
him before he could again seize his sword, he gave a spur to 
his horse, who darted one side, which gave him time to draw 
his battle-axe, that hung from the saddle-bow, and with it he 
again bore down on his foe. 

The good war-horse of Fieramosca, trained to every kind of 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


257 


battle, began, with a light twitch of the bridle and a touch of 
the spur, to rear, like a ram preparing to butt, and leap for- 
ward, without retreating at any time so far as to put La Motte 
beyond the reach of his master. Struck with the intelligence 
the horse showed in every movement — “ I have done well,” 
thought Fieramosca, “to bring thee to the field.” And so 
skilfully did he wield his battle-axe that he soon won upon 
the Frenchman the advantage he had lost. 

The combat of these antagonists who might be considered 
the best of the two parties, if it was not to decide the fate of 
the battle, would, nevertheless, have decided the honor. It 
would have been too deep a disgrace for La Motte to be con- 
quered, having been so bold in showing his contempt for his 
enemies ; and a double glory to Ettore to be his victor. Fiera- 
mosca’s companions well Imowing his skill in such an engage- 
ment, abstained from taking any part in the struggle ; and the 
French, too, extended no help to their champion — that after so 
much boasting, it might not be said he could not withstand, 
unaided, one of his foes. Consequently, without being con- 
scious of it themselves, they all suspended their struggle, and 
fixed their eyes upon the two warriors. 

In both of them, the thoughts alluded to, begot an incon- 
ceivable determination to conquer, and they fought with a 
wariness — an attention to commit no error — an alacrity to seize 
every advantage, that their struggle might be called a model 
of the art of chivalry. 

Diego Garcia di Paredes, who had passed his life in feats of 
arms, was amazed at the sight of so masterly a combat, and 
unable to rest any longer in his seat, he rose and walked to the 
last brow of the ridge that overlooked the arena, and gazed 
eagerly upon the spectacle. Seen from a distance, with his 
gigantic bust planted upon Herculian legs, and his arms hang- 
ing naturally at his sides, he seemed as immovable as a statue ; 
but, to those near him, the contraction of his muscles under the 
tight buckskin dress he wore— the clenching of his fists, and 
more than all, the scintillation of his eyes, showed, too well 
how his blood boiled, and how deep was his mortification he 
could be there only as a spectator. 


258 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Tlic motives that witlilield the rest from disturbing the com- 
bat, either never entered the head, or were disregarded by Fan- 
fulla, who, after leaving Sig. Prospero, went back to reconnoitre 
the field. He gave his horse the spur, and with his sword high 
ill air, launched himself against La Motte. Ettore saw him 
coming, and cried out, “ Back but this being not sufficient, 
he dashed his horse across the track of Fanfulla, and with the 
heel of his battle-axe, gave him a back-handed blow upon the 
breastplate, which forced him with a bad grace to retire. 

“ I ’m enough for him, and even too much,” he exclaimed, 
angrily. 

This courteous act towards La Motte, was praised by all but 
Fanfulla, who broke out into one of those Italian exclamations 
which cannot be reduced to writing, half in jest and half in 
- anger, he replied : 

“ Thy tongue is in thy Aand.” 

Wheeling his horse, he dashed like a madman through his 
enemies, dealing out blows on all sides, without assailing any 
one in particular. After this momentary pause, the battle was 
again renewed, hotter than ever. From the beginning, Branca- 
leone, firm in his purpose, had aimed hi's lance at Grajano 
d’Asti, and fortune was equal between them. When they 
came to their swords, neither seemed to gain any advantage. 
Brancaleone was, perhaps, superior to his enemy in robustness, 
and even in skill ; but the Piedmontese was renowned for par- 
rying a blow, and he who understands this art, knows how 
much it is worth in battle. 

Among the other combatants the victory was wholly unde- 
cided, and although the battle had lasted more than an hour 
and a half, it had, however, been so hot and obstmate, that it 
was very evident the men and the horses had need of a short 
repose, and it Avas conceded by the common consent of the 
judges. The trumpet gave the signal, and the king of arms 
entered the arena and separated the combatants. 

That buzzing murmur we hear in our theatres immediately 
after the curtain falls on an act that has captivated the atten- 
tion of the spectators, arose in like manner from the multitudes 
that pressed round the arena. The combatants returned to 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


259 


their first position and dismounted — some took off their helmets 
to cool their brows and dry their sweat, and others who found 
their mail or the armor of their horses injured, tried to repair 
the spot. The steeds shook their heads and champed their 
bits to liberate themselves from the tight curbs ; and feeling no 
longer their riders in the saddle, they planted firmly their legs, 
and lowering their heads, gave a prolonged shake which made 
all their armor ring. The hucksters around the field had 
rested their lungs, and now raised still louder cries than ever, 
and the two masters of the field spurred up their horses and 
went to meet their warriors. 

One of the French being made a prisoner, and nearly all the 
rest either bruised or wounded, left a general opinion that the 
Italians, so far, had the best of the day; and, among all who 
had laid wagers on either side — those who had risked anything 
on th^ former, began to doubt the keenness of their foresight. 
Tho noble Bajardo had had too much experience in such mat- 
ters not to be aware that the prospect of his side was growing 
darlt. But, endeavoring to conceal his suspicion, he encour- 
aged his fellow-countrymen — put them in order, reminding 
each one of the rules of the art — the strokes to be tried, and 
the means of defence. 

Prospero Colonna, who saw his company had received less 
injury and had therefore less need of repose when the half- 
hour had expired, demanded that the battle be again renewed, 
and the judges gave the signal. The horses were still panting, 
but they raised their head when they felt the spurs, and rush- 
ing forward met once more in the shock of battle. Now the 
victory was to be decided in a few moments, and the silence and 
stillness of the spectators increased, with the desperation and 
fury of the combatants. The decorations of dress, the plumes 
and the ornaments, were flying in the air or dangling in dust 
and blood. From Ettore’s side hung his azure scarf severed 
by a blow, his helmet was naked and battered, but wounded 
only lightly in the neck, he was as strong as ever. He again 
charged La Motte, against whom he was once more pitted. 
Fanfulla had in front of him Jacques de Guignes. Brancaleone 
had closed in once more with Grajano, advised of the way 


260 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


to touch his helmet, and the rest of his companions were 
dispersed around the field each one struggling with an enemy, 
and most of them with the battle-ELxe in hand which they 
wielded with surprising skill. 

Suddenly a cry was raised among the spectators, and 'all, 
even to the combatants, turned to see the cause — the fight 
between Brancaleone and Grajano was finished. The latter 
was bent upon his horse’s neck with his helmet and his skull 
cleft in twam, and the blood was rushing from the wound in 
such streams that it flowed from the openings of his visor, 
upon his arms down the legs of the horse who left tracks 
of blood. At last he fell to the ground and struck the sand 
like a bag of blacksmith’s tools. Brancaleone brandished his 
bloody axe over his head, and with a teiTible voice cried 
out : 

“ Viva Italia ! and thus perish all renegade traitors.” Proud 
of his triumph he pushed on, fiercely wielding his double- 
headed battle-axe, as he fell upon his enemies who were still 
making a vigorous defence, but the contest did not last long. 
The fall of Grajano seemed to turn the scale. Enraged at the 
long and obstinate defence of La Motte, Fieramosca redoubled 
the force of his blows and brought them down with such rapid- 
ity that he disconcerted and bewildered him. Deprived of his 
shield, with half a sword in his hand and his mail unrivetted 
and broken, he brought down so dreadful a stroke upon his 
head with his battle-axe that he brought him stunned to his 
saddle-bow and almost without the power of seeing. 

Before he could recover, Fieramosca who was on his right 
side tlirowing his shield behind his shoulders, seized him with 
the left hand by the steel belts that bind the breastplate upon 
tlie shoulders, and pressing m his legs gave spurs to his horse. 
The steed launched forward and the French knight was 
dragged down from the saddle. When he fell to the ground, 
Fieramosca, who had seized his time, leaped from his horse, 
and struck over his fellow adversary with his dagger unsheath- 
ed in his hand, and holding it over his eyes the point pressed 
lightly against his forehead, he cried, “ Surrender, or thou art 
a dead man ! ” The baron still half unconscious, made no 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


261 


reply, and his silence would have cost him his life had not 
Bajardo saved him by crying out, “ Prisoner.” 

Having sent La Motte away to Sig. Prospero under the 
charge of his servants, Fieramosca turned to mount his saddle 
again, but his horse had disappeared. He cast a glance 
around the field and saw that Giraud de Forses, whose horse 
had been killed, had stolen the charger of the Italian, and was 
already among his companions, making head against his 
enemies. The brave Ettore knew that alone and on foot he 
could not regain his horse. He had nourished and brought 
him up with his own hand, and -taught him to follow his 
voice, and he was not disturbed. Coming as near to him as 
possible he began to call him, stamping his foot, as he was 
accustomed to do when he gave him his grain. The horse 
started to obey the call, and the knight reining him in, the 
noble animal first began to prance, then leaped forward, and 
in spite of his rider’s attempts to restrain or to guide him, he 
dashed with him into the midst of the Italians, who surrounded 
him, and had their prisoner without the stroke of a sword. 
When he dismounted, Ettore sprung to his back, while the" 
Frenchman was cursing his fortune. But his captor returned 
him his sword, which had been taken from him, saying : 

“ God help thee, brother ; take thy arms and return among 
thy friends, for our prisoners we have by force of arms, and 
not by jugglers’ tricks.” 

The Frenchman, who expected anything else but this, was 
overwhelmed with astonishment. He thought a moment, and 
then replied — 

“ If I do not yield to your arms, I do to your courtesy,” and 
taking his sword by the middle of the blade, he went and 
laid it at the feet of Signor Prospero, and it was remarked 
by all who had praised the courteous act of Fieramosca, that 
. the French knight had acted nobly too, and made a generous 
reply. For this reason he alone was dismissed without paying 
his ransom. 

The French party was now stripped of four of its bravest 
swords, while the Italians still counted their thirteen mounted 
men, and it may easily be imagined how the day was likely 


262 THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 

to end. Notwithstanding five Frenchmen were unhorsed, they 
clustered together, and flanking themselves with two mounted 
knights on either side, they prepared to make another stand 
against the Italians, who gathering now the third time made 
a charge once more upon their adversaries. 

No one supposed they could withstand the shock, but ad- 
miring the firmness and skill of these brave men, an anxious 
curiosity mcreased among the spectators, to see the result 
of this last defence, and there was hardly oiie among that 
multitude who did not feel that they were obliged, in with- 
standing the fury of the charge against such dreadful odds, 
to rush into the extremest peril. But the French had no such 
fears — ^bruised, wounded, covered with dust and blood, they 
still presented a bold and sublime spectacle, unflinchingly 
awaiting the ruin those horses must bring, for it seemed they 
would grind them to powder. 

At last the Italians started, but not with their former swift- 
ness, for their horses were worn down with fatigue, and many 
of their mouths were covered with bloody foam. The knights 
raised the cry. Viva Italia louder than ever, and drove in 
their spurs, but their bleeding steeds only mounted to a slow 
gallop. Notwithstanding the laws proclaimed in the beginning, 
so wild was the mania that transported the crowd at that 
dreadful moment, the circle they formed around the area was 
fast diminishing. The guards stationed to preserve order, 
more anxious even than the rest, followed the concentric move- 
ment. 

In the centre of the line newly formed by the Italians, was 
stationed Fieramosca, who had the best horse, and at Ms 
sides those least exhausted or swifter of foot. In this last 
charge upon their foes the centre advanced in the form of 
a wedge, with Ettore for a leader. This order was so well 
preserved, that when they reached their destination they 
dashed through the French file almost without opposition. 
But now the struggle began, more clustered and more terrible 
than ever. To the number, the valor, and the skill of the 
Italians, were opposed efforts more than human,— desperation. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA 263 

and the enraged mortification of imminent and inevitable 
dishonor. 

The brave and unfortunate French knights, in the midst 
of a cloud of dust, fell bleeding mider the hoofs of the horses — 
they raised themselves up again, clinging to the stirrups and 
bridles of their victors — again they fell, exhausted, bruised, 
crushed, rolled one upon another, half disarmed, their mail 
torn off, and yet struggling to recover, seizing up from the 
ground fragments of swords, broken lances, and even stones, 
to retard the defeat. 

Ettore was the first to raise the cry for them to give up the 
contest, and surrender prisoners ; but it was scarcely heard in 
the“ din of the battle, or if it were, they refused by their ac- 
tions to yield, mutely suffering those horrible strokes, and 
mad with fury, they still made their astonishing defence. 
Of the four who were in the saddle when this last engagement 
begun, one had been unhorsed and was fighting on foot, 
two had had their horses killed, and the fourth was surrounded 
and made prisoner. It would be impossible to describe all the 
strange incidents, the blows, the desperate deeds .that filled 
up these last moments. They left among the spectators, for 
many years, a recollection of wonder and of hon'or. 

De Liaye, to cite a single case, was seen clinging by two hands 
to the rein of Capoccio Romano, to dismount him, if possible, 
or seize the bridle from his hand. The horse stamped him 
under his fore feet, but he could not rid him of the French 
knight, who was dragged in this manner across the field to 
Signor Prospero, and many hands and great strength were 
necessary to unclench his grasp and put him among the pris- 
oners, he was so transported with desperation. At last, it 
became so horrible, it seemed too cruel even to the Italians 
themselves, to follow up the battle. Fieramosca’s cry was 
taken up by others, and they all ceased their fighting at once, 
shouting to the few remaining madmen, Pj-isoners — Prisoners. 

A murmur was now heard among the people, which increased 
in spite of the heralds, and they clamored, and groaned, and 
hissed, for the combat to be arrested, and the French saved 
Breaking through the lines, the multitude crowded arouiid the 


2,64 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


combatants, who were shut up in an area of only thirty or 
forty paces. Some were shouting, others waving handkerchiefs 
and hats, hoping in this way to bring the battle to an end, 
while others turned to the judges and masters of the field. 
Signor Prospero pressed forward through the crowd and raised 
his voice and his rod, and implored the French to surrender. 
And Bajardo, although he felt pained at the unhappy fate of 
his companions, saw that all further effort was useless, and 
feeling it was unjust to stand by and see such brave men 
pour out their blood so hopelessly, dashed through the crowd 
and cried out to his countrymen to give over the contest, and 
yield themselves prisoners. 

But neither his nor any other voice was heeded by the van- 
quished combatants, who seemed no longer to bear any 
resemblance to men, for they appeared more like demons and 
unchained furies. At last the Judges descended from the tri- 
bunal and approached the scene of blood, causing the trumpets 
to be sounded, and proclaiming in a loud voice the Italians 
had conquered. The latter then wished to retire from the field, 
but it was 'in vain. Their antagonists, so drunken with fury 
and the pain of their bleeding wounds, they could neither hear 
nor comprehend, still fought on, like tigers bound in the folds 
of a serpent, and tried still to seize hold of their victorious foes. 

Diego Garcia at last, seeing there was no other way, entered 
the mele, and throwing himself upon the shoulders of Sacet de 
Jacet, who had closed in with Brancaleone with the vain hope 
of wrenching his battle-axe from his hand, just as the Italian 
Hercules was preparing a final blow for his skull that would 
have laid him dead ; and grasping him with gigantic power, 
in spite of his resistance, dragged him from the combat. His 
example was imitated by a number of the spectators, and in 
a moment they had surrounded and fallen upon the combat- 
ants, and although they did not escape blows and bruises, and 
tearing of clothes, they at last succeeded, after a hard struggle, 
in bearing these five or six half insane men from the arena. 
And although they still clamored wildly for their foes, they 
were stationed under the oaks, with their fellow prisoners. 

The combat was no sooner over than Fieramosca mounted 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


265 


his horse and rode up to the point where Grajano d’Asti still 
lay on the spot where he had fallen. When Brancaleone’s 
fatal blow fell, the generous heart of Ettore could not suppress 
an emotion of joy. But hardly was it come before it was 
crushed by a sublime and virtuous reflection. He approached, 
and clearing away the crowd around, he knelt over him. 
The blood was still flowing from the deep wound, but slow 
and clotted. With the greatest care he gradually raised his 
head, as he would have done in trying to save his best friend, 
and removed his helmet. But the battle-axe had penetrated 
the skull and sunk deep into the brain — the knight was dead ! 
With a sigh which came up from the bottom of his heart, 
Ettore laid the head of the dead man again on the ground, and 
standing once more on his feet, he said to his companions, 
who had also gathered around, and more particularly to Bran- 
caleone : 

“ That weapon of thine” (pointing to the axe he held in his 
liand, still reeking with blood) has done this day, a deed of 
eternal justice. But how can we enjoy such a victory ? The 
blood that stains this ground is it not Italian blood ? And could 
not he so gallant, and so brave in war, have spilt it for our 
glory and his own, against a common foe? The tomb of 
Grajano would then have been honored, and glorious, and his 
memory an example of honor. But now, he has fallen in 
infamy, and upon his ashes will weigh the curse of the traitors 
of their country.” * * 

They all now returned silent, and sad, to their horses. The 
corpse was that evening borne to Barletta, but when they went 
to deposit it in the consecrated ground, the people rose in 
turbulent masses to prohibit it. The undertaker then carried 
it to the bed of a torrent two miles from the city, dug a hole 
and threw it in ; and for ever from that day, that place was 
called “ The Traitor’s Pass.” 

Signor Prospero, before setting out from the field, turned to 
Bajardo, and asked if he would then ransom his companions 
The bragadocio of La Motte had been listened to by Bajardo. 
He made no reply. The Judges decreed that the prisoners 
must follow their conquerors to Barletta. They started on 
11 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


266 

foot, silent, mortified, surrounded by a vast multitude ; and the 
Italians followed them upon their battle steeds, to the music 
of instruments, with cries of “ Viva Italia ! Viva Colonna !** 
They reached the castle, and the thirteen warriors mounted 
to the grand hall, and presented their twelve prisoners to 
Gonzales, who was waiting for them in state with all his 
Barons. After a generous eulogium upon the victors, he turned 
to the French knights, and thus addressed them : — 

“ I would never insult brave men under the frowns of fortune. 
The fate of arms is fluctuating, and he who is vanquished to- 
day, may come off victorious to-morrow. I will not charge you 
henceforth to respect Italian valor — after what you have seen 
to-day such words would be superfluous. But still 1 will 
advise you, from this hour for ever, to honor valor and courage 
wherever you find them, remembering that God has distributed 
them among all men, without limiting them to you, as the 
privilege of your nation, and that true courage is adorned with 
modesty, and never contaminated by boasting.” 

After these few words they were dismissed. They all left the 
hall together, and thus ended that glorious day. 


CONCLUSION. 


All those who narrate, or write a story (we are sincere) have 
always a secret spark of hope that it may delight, that it may 
find some one who will listen to it, or read it to the end. Even 
we have treasured up in a corner of the heart this same hope, 
which like |he flame of a candle exposed to the draft, at times 
flares up (let the reader laugh if he pleases), and then dies 
away till it is almost extinguished. But our self-love has 
^ sheltered the flickering spark thus far, and it burns on still. 

If this subtle flatterer has not deceived us — if we have really 
found a reader with patience enough to accompany us thus far, 
we may hope he will still deshe to hear something more of 
the fate of Fieramosca, and we will gladly give him all the 
~ intelligence we possess. 

When Gonzales had dismissed the victors, and the prisoners, 
the latter were taken to the house of Colomia, where they were 
hospitably entertained for the night. The day following, their 
ransom-money was brought from the French camp, and they 
were liberated, and accompanied by crowds till they passed 
the gate, with all those demonstrations of honor they had so 
nobly merited by their valiant defence. , 

But no sooner had Fieramosca gone out from the presence 
of the Great Captain, than all thought of them was banished 
from his mind. He could at last think of himself, and of 
Ginevra, and quietly withdrawing from his companions, who, 
surrounded by a crowd of friends, could think of nothing else 
in the intoxicating joy of victory, and paid no attention to 
him. He saw Vittoria Colonna at the bottom of the terrace of 
the court-yard : she had been present when Gonzales received 
the thirteen warriors, and returning again, was now just enter- 


THE. CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


268 

ing her room. He ran towards her, and calling her name, she 
stopped, and turned round in the threshold. She had heard a 
part of Fieramosca’s adventures, and she readily fancied the 
object of his curiosity. 

“ Oh God ! what shall I tell him ?” she said to herself ; but 
she had no time for reflection, for Ettore was already at her 
side. His armor was all covered with blood, and unrivetted 
in various places where blows had fallen. Only one plume 
was left on his helmet ; nothing remained of the rest but the 
bare stems. His raised visor exposed his beautiful countenance, 
worn with fatigue, bathed with sweat, and yet, full of joy for 
the victory won, and of anxiety to find her, whom after the 
death of Grajano, he could finally call his own. 

As the human heart is inclined to hope, or to fear, according 
to the circumstances that surround it, the despondency, and 1 
might say, the desperation he had felt the previous night, and 
the morning of the battle, thinking of Ginevra, now by the 
physical and moral shock of that dreadful struggle on the field j 
with the irrepressible joy of having conquered, had changed 
into a confident hope of finding her well and safe. 

« My lady,” he said, speaking with a violent palpitation, 
“ God reward and bless thee. I know all, * * that you recover- 
ed her, that you have done every thing right, * * poor creature, 
* •*' and it was necessary, * * take me to her — ^let us go for the 
love of God !” 

Every word of the young knight went like the point of a 
knife to the heart of Vittoria, and she had not courage to tell 
him the dreadful news ; but composing her countenance, she 
gathered strength to say, with a half smile : — 

“ Ginevra is once more at St. Ursula” (it was too true, for an 
hour before the return of the Italians from the camp, she had 
been borne to the convent, attended by the friar Mariano, to 
bury her in the night). 

“ At St. Ursula, what ? so quick ! then she has not been 
sick ! Then she is well ! 

“ Yes, she is well.” 

Fieramosca opened his arms as if to embrace Vittoria, so 
wild was his joy. But instead, he dropped a knee to the ground. 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA, 


269 


and taking her hand, he stamped kisses of gratitude upon it, 
worth more than a thousand words. 

Then rising, almost out of himself, he started off to fly to St. 
Ursula. But he stopped a moment, looked at his breast, and 
turned back. “ See Signora,” said he, smiling and trembling 
with joy. “Look at this azure scarf — she made it for me, 
' * * to day a sword struck it as it was hanging over my breast- 
plate, and cut it in two.” 

As he said this, he untied the knot he had made with the 
two ends, to keep it from falling. 

“ I am too bold, I know, but would you have the kindness to 
jom it again, so that Gmevra would not observe it had been 
cut. She would — dear creature —think it was a bad omen. * * 
She would say * * “ thou did’st not know enough to protect it 
with thy shield.” 

Vittoria went willingly to her room to get what was neces- 
sary in doing it, glad to escape one moment from the young 
knight, to hide her agitation in seeing his fatal assurance. She 
returned somewhat calmer, and sitting down to unite the scarf, 
with her face lowered, Fieramosca was unconscious of her 
struggle. 

“ Hardly,” said he, smiling, as she worked on, “ hardly could 
we tell what color it was * * * it has seen strange fortunes * 
* * it has been my companion in dark days, and now it shall 
see brighter ones with me. Do you know for how many years 
I have always kept it by me ? * * * I have saved it from many 
a battle — and to-day ! * * * when all my sorrows are turned 
’ into gladness, they have spoiled it for me — what would a be- 
liever in auguries say ? ” 

Vittoria went on sewing without answering a word. Strug- 
gling between the thought that she must reveal to him the 
truth, and the invincible repugnance she felt to give him so 
dreadful a blow, she thought she would take council with 
Brancaleone, immediately after Ettore left her, and prepare him 
to stand by his friend in this terrible hour. 

“ I thank you a thousand times,” said Ettore, when the work 
was done ; and rushing down the stair-way, in a moment he 
was in the court-yard. No one was left but his servant 


2X0 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


Masuccio, who held by the bridle his horse, still covered with 
foam. The poor beast’s head was down, his eye hollow, and 
his sides were still beating rapidly. 

“ To the stable, to the stable ! ” cried out Ettore to the groom, 
as he dashed by him. “ Who is thy teacher ? A sweating horse 
still in the open air ! ” And he rushed out of the court-yard, 
and went towards the gate that looked in the direction of St. 
Ursula. The passage was shorter by the sea. He reached the 
point where the boats were kept, but there was not one to be 
found. The ships which bore the recruits that had arrived 
from Spain had cast anchor m the port. Wishing the troops 
to disembark before night, every boat had been taken into this 
service. Ettore stamped his feet with impatience, and then 
said, “ I ’ll go on horseback — it ’s a little longer, but let it be so !” 
And he went to the stable ; Masuccio was just taking the bri- 
dle from Airone. 

“ Leave it on him,” said Fieramosca ; and snatching it from 
his hand, he threw it over his neck, and leaping into the saddle, 
he was in a few moments out of the city, on the road that 
winds along the shore to the convent. 

“ Poor Airone !” he said, patting him on his neck, and quick- 
ening the trot by striking his heels into the sides of his good 
steed, who found it hard to be forbidden the stall after so much 
fatigue. “ Thou art right ; but have patience a little longer, 
and I will repay thee well.” 

In the meantime night was fast approaching, and the sun 
had been down half an hour. Riding on towards the east, 
Fieramosca had behind his back the clear and serene sky, and 
before him the sun ; the heavens covered by long dark clouds 
which settled in a streak along the horizon. These clouds were 
discharging as they happened to be, more or less dense bodies 
of rain upon the line of the sea, and the peaks of these cloud- 
masses which rose almost into the zenith, still caught the last 
gleams of twilight which colored them with a pale light. In 
the midst of the blackness, the lightnings were tremulously, 
almost incessantly, gleaming, and the deep thunder rolled from 
the distance over the sea. The sea was rising and threatening 
— heaving and almost black -beaten, the white foam was curl- 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


271 


ing from the tops of the low trees, and along the beach the 
waters came more and more heavily in long swellings, green 
and transparent, like wails of glass, and over their own verges 
they fell curling below, as they dashed angrily with their 
white foam upon the dry sand of the shore. 

But the lowering storm had no power at that moment to 
ruffle the bright spirit of the young knight. With an impatient 
eye he measured the distance that divided him from St. Ursula, 
and the shore was so bare and open he could see all the beach. 
He fancied the ecstacy of the first sight of Ginevra — he saw 
her coming to meet him with all that earnest innocence of 
countenance, moving in grace and beauty. He hoped to reach 
the convent in time to be the first to bring her news of the 
victory, and he only thought now of the best way he could tell 
her she was at last free to dispose of her own hand. 

When he was within two shots of an arquebuse of the tower, 
the east wind, beating against his face, had brought on the 
storm ; large drops came sweeping down, which struck his 
cuirass and dashed off in spray, and they fell every moment 
faster and thicker. A thunderbolt fell, which seemed to bring 
with it a cataract from heaven that bathed Fieramosca from 
head to foot before he could pass the short distance that sepa- 
rated him from the tower. The gate was still open ; he dashed 
through it like an arrow, and in a moment he was on the 
island, at the door of the stranger’s house. Tying his horse to 
an iron ring which was partly protected from the storm by the 
roof, four leaps brought him to Ginevra’s room. It is needless 
to say he found it empty. He descended again, and at first, 
thought he would seek for her in the church. He knew it was 
her custom to go to a gallery to pray — he entered and cast a 
glance there, it was empty — the church was empty, and almost 
entirely dark. He could not see a person in the choir, and yet 
he heard a low chanting, which seemed jto come up from 
below. He went forward, and saw that from the grating 
before the main altar, which looked down into the subter- 
ranean chapel, a light was streaming which struck upon the 
ceiling above, in a circular discolored form — when he ap- 
proached it, he heard them reciting beloAv the prayers for the 


272 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


dead. He walked round the altar and descended. The rat- 
tling of his armor and spurs, and the clank of his sword upon 
the steps, startled the circle gathered around the little chapel ; 
the circle opened — at their feet he beheld the bier he had seen 
that morning in the sacristy of St. Dominico; before him cn 
the side of the altar, the friar Mariano in surplice, and the 
habit for the dead, holding in his extended hand the holy water 
— in the centre an open tomb — on one side two men support- 
ing an upright stone ; on the other Zoraide on her knees, bend- 
ing over the body of Ginevra, which had already been low- 
ered beneath ; she was composing the veil upon her face, and 
laying a crown of white roses upon her forehead. 

Ettore reached the pavement, and stood gazing, immovable, 
without speaking a word — without making a motion — or mov- 
ing his eyelids. Slowly his face became as rigid and pallid as 
a corpse, then his lips showed a convulsive tremor, and large 
drops of cold sweat rolled down from his forehead. The sobs of 
Zoraide were redoubled, and friar Mariano, with a tremulous 
voice which told but too well how the sight of the wretched 
young knight lacerated his heart — could only say — 

“ Yesterday she took her flight to Heaven, and she is now 
more blessed with God than she could be with us.” * * 

But tears choked the good friar’s utterance, and he was silent. 
The stone moved by iron bars again found its place and fell 
upon the tomb. 

Ettore still stood motionless. Friar Mariano approached him, 
took his hand which hung lifeless, embraced him and turned 
him round to leave the place, and Ettore obeyed. They 
mounted the stairway and went forth from the church. The 
lightnings, the thunder peals, the rain in torrents still continued. 
When they reached the steps of the stranger’s house, Fiera- 
mosca tore himself away from the embrace of the friar, and 
before he could utter a single word he was bending over the 
neck of his horse, his spurs were plunged deep into his rowels 
and his rapid steps echoed under the gate of the tower. 

No friend of Fieramosca, no living soul of those times ever 
saw him afterwards living or dead. Various conjectures were 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


273 


made about his fate, but they were all vain and uncertain. 
One alone savored of probability, and it was this. 

Some poor mountaineers of Gargano, who were tending 
their coal-pits, related to the peasants (and thus from mouth to 
mouth the story at last reached Barletta after the Spanish 
camp had broken up), that one night in the midst of a wild 
storm they had seen a strange vision of an armed knight, 
on the peaks of some inaccessible rocks that overhung a 
steep declivity near the sea. At first a few only reported the 
vision, but the number increased, and at last the whole coun- 
try around adopted the firm belief it was the archangel S. 
Michael. 

But when this reached the ears of friar Mariano, and he had 
calculated the time it was seen, he thought it might rather 
have been Fieramosca, who, driven wild, had spurred his 
horse up those difficult passes, at last plunged with him into 
the sea. 

In the year 1616 , a tract of rocky sea shore, under M. Gargano 
had been left bare by the retreating of the sea. A fisherman 
found lying between the rocks a heap of iron, almost con- 
sumed by the marine salt and by rust, underneath he found 
human bones and the carcass of a horse. The reader may 
now draw his own conclusion — for us, our story is done. 

To dream its merits may win for it public favor would be a 
vain and ridiculous hope, but we think we may be allowed 
to hope that the Italians will accept with amiable indulgence 
the good will of him who recals to them a fact in their his- 
tery which does them so much honor. We have not felt 
ourselves at liberty to introduce incidents at the expense of 
the vanquished for the sake of heightening the valor of the 
victors, for such incidents would be rebuked by Giorio, 
Guicciardini, and other writers who speak of this fact. It was 
not our wish to do injuiy to the valor of the French, which we 
are ready to acknowledge and to praise, but only to make that of 
the Italians known, and in accomplishing our purpose we had 
no need of departing from history, whose records had done 
us perfect justice. For this reason we may be allowed to 
say how direful we feel that contention to be, which in- 


274 


THE CHALLENGE OF BARLETTA. 


flames men of different nations to those hostile charges which 
are often embittered by falsehoods, faults and crimes, show 
how noble an office is it in one who wishes well to his race, 
to that law of love and of justice proclaimed in the gospel, to 
plant his foot upon those flames of jealousy and hatred which 
have so long desolated the world. 

But what shall we say of the mutual animosities, still more 
degrading and sacriligious, that have so often and so long 
raged between the various parties of the same nation ? Too 
true it is that Italy cannot ward off this imputation of shame and 
dishonor which in nothing else has been cast upon her glory 
even by an enemy. And although these animosities have been 
and always will be more and more deplored and cursed, the 
time is yet far distant when the reproach heaped upon us shall 
be equal to our crime. 

It seems to us, therefore, that although the writer who records 
once more one of those deplorable facts in which our history 
too much abounds, may imperfectly execute a lofty task, he 
will not have labored in vain. It seems to us besides, that his 
sentence of reproof will be esteemed more sincere and prove 
more effective when he visits it upon that part of Italy where 
he was bom, for otherwise his judgment might have an air of 
partiality, and seem to have been swayed, in some measure, by 
that debasing sectional envy he wished to reproach. For this 
reason we thmk that a man born in Piedmont may more appro- 
priately than any one else, heap upon the memory of Grajano 
d’Asti the dishonor that ought to cover his tomb. 











MEDICI SERIES OF ITALIM PROSE. 


L’Ainico della Litcratura. 


TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY 

C. EDWARDS LES 


NEW YORK: 

PAINE AND BURGE 

6 2 JOHN STREET. 

1 8 4 : 6 . 


, t ' THE 

CHALLENGE OE BARLETTA, 

BY 

ilTassimo iB’^^cglicr. 



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THE 



MEDICI SERIES 


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ITALIAN PEOSE. 



Ettore Fieramosca, or the Challenge of Barletta — 
An Historical Romance of the Times of the Medici. By 


The Florentine Histories, by Machiavelli. 

The Citizen of a Republic, by Ceba, a Genoese. 

The Autobiography of Alfieri. 

The above are Translated by C. Edwards Lester, Esq., 
U. S. Consul at Genoa, author of the “ Glory and Shame of 
England,” &c., &c., with original notes and sketches in illustra- 
tion of the Genius, the Lives and the Times of the Authors. 




IN PRESS, 

‘‘ ®lje !3lvti0t, tl)e JHercljant, onir tlje Statesman/* 

By C. Edwards Lester, Esq. 

This work is made up of the choicest and most original 
materials on the subjects of the Fine Arts,, Commerce and 
Political Economy. It contains the results of the Author’s 
studies in Italy, and borrows its illustrations from the History, 
the Civilisation, and the Fine .Arts, during the times of the 
Republics of the Middle Ages. The manuscript has been 
read by some of the most elegant critics in this country, and 
if their opinions may be taken, it will be everywhere received 
with enthusiasm. It will contain an Autobiography of Powers, 
the Sculptor, and sketches of our Artists abroad, and be illus- 
trated with elegant line engravings of 
PoAVERS, and of Americus Vespucius 
— the latter taken from the cele- 
brated original Portrait of 
the Great Discoverer, 
by Bronzino. 





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